


Chosen

by Larkawolfgirl



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Altered canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Curses, Dubious non-con, Healers, Immortality, Jealousy, Love/Hate, M/M, Mental Instability, Mild S&M, Redemption, Reincarnation, Rope Bondage, Sexual Content, True Love, brief mention of nectrophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-02-28 02:02:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13261269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larkawolfgirl/pseuds/Larkawolfgirl
Summary: As insane as it is, Prompto cannot shake the feeling that he is meant to be with Ardyn, for better or worse.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Added for Promdyn week, but I had this idea a few days before learning about the week. This first chapter is redited and the second chapter will hopefully be up today or tomorrow. I am just finishing up one scene and editing.

Prompto can still remember the first time he watched Prince Ardyn heal. It was life altering in its magnificence. Crystalline blue light emanated from his hands, swirling around the afflicted, regenerating the man’s injury. He sat in awe, feeling like a child seeing the miracle of birth for the first time. This was something miraculous and awe-inspiring.  _ He’s beautiful _ , he remembers thinking as his hand stretched toward him despite the yards separating them. The man was focused entirely on his patient, but Prompto remained seated until all the other spectators had dispersed.

Ardyn helped his patient up from the cot, radiating a caring gentleness.  _ What might I learn from you? _

Only after the healed man had thanked him and hobbled away on inexperienced legs did he notice Prompto sitting there unmoving. “Yes? Might I help you with something?”

Prompto’s tongue was tied.  _ Let me stay by your side.  _ “Highness, I would like to be your apprentice, if you would have me,” he finally said.

“Do you know anything of medicine?”

Prompto shook his head.

Ardyn sighed but studied him. “Alright. You seem genuine enough. You may start by helping me gather my things. We return to the hotel to begin your studies.”

“Yes.”

Healing was more strenuous than Prompto expected. Growing up in the height of Altissia, he had done little physical labor, focusing more on his studies of literature, music, and the arts. His dream had always been to be a great painter like Tursten Lang who painted the infamous  _ Tide of Leviathan _ . Never did he think he would spend hours cutting strips of fabric, sterilizing needles, and wrapping bandages. Despite Ardyn’s healing capabilities, Prompto was surprised to learn the man relied entirely on practical medical treatments whenever possible, only using his abilities when there was no other option.

Even though it meant more work on Prompto’s part, he found himself agreeing to the healer’s methods. The more he saw the healing done, the more he noticed its adverse effects on his mentor. The man would lose his breath and his paled skin would bead with sweat. As troubling as it was to know the strain healing put on his mentor, Prompto could not deny viewing the healings was still his main reason for staying with the man, especially on the toughest days. Just seeing that crystalline light invigorated his faith in the Astrals and the world they had created.

However, when daemons and the incurable Starscourge appeared, everyone’s faith was shaken, Ardyn’s most of all. He would rant at Prompto for hours, asking him impossible questions such as why the Astrals would allow innocents to suffer. Prompto did not have any answer, only saying that it must be part of their grand plan.

Distraught, Ardyn threw himself into finding a cure. He took on more apprentices, hardly slept, and traveled non-stop doing whatever he could to ease the Scourge victim’s suffering. Then one day, on a hunch, he tried using his magic in a different way. Pulling at it, he succeeded in sucking the Scourge right out of the victim and into his magic.

The young boy’s mother cried and hugged him in thanks.

Ardyn smiled in triumph. Prompto did not.

Whereas normal healings left Ardyn tired and worn, this left him looking completely raged, as if it had drained his life force.

Once they were alone in Ardyn’s tent, Prompto set a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I know you want to save people, but I do not think you should do that again.”

Ardyn frowned. “I must.”

“You must know more than I what that did to you. It is not worth it.”

Ardyn shook his head ruefully. “That is where you are wrong. I may be the future king, but what king would I be if I valued my own life over that boy’s?”

Prompto felt his heart swell. Something that had begun to grow inside him some time ago reared its head. “Ardyn Lucis Caelum, you are the kindest man I have ever met.”

Ardyn smiled shyly. “You flatter me.”

“No,” Prompto moved his hand to the back of Ardyn’s neck, “you are.” He licked his lips, eyes flickering between the other man’s eyes and lips.

Ardyn’s breath caught. He looked conflicted, but then he leaned forward and kissed him.

Much as his experience with the man had been up to this point, he could only describe the kiss as magnificent. His experience was limited, but he could feel this kiss in his bones. Be it the will of the Gods or what-be-it, they were meant to be together.

When they broke apart, both smiled, all shyness gone. The air felt free and right in a way Prompto had never known. There was much they should discuss, but right then, words felt unnecessary.

It was bold of him, but his free hand came up to Ardyn’s chest. He stared into his eyes, watching for silent signals as his hand traced along him. Soon, Ardyn’s hand joined him, tracing over his chest before going lower. Together, they slid their hands beneath the other’s clothing to reach skin.

Thereafter, Prompto was both the happiest and unhappiest he had ever been. He felt fulfilled as never before, delighting in each moment he had with Ardyn, even if those moments were spent sweating over cleaning and dressing wounds. Yet with each day, the Scourge claimed more victims, and Ardyn wore himself down further with his grueling healing sessions.

“Ardyn,” Prompto muttered one night as they lay ready for sleep, hand cupping the man’s pale cheek, “don’t take this the wrong way, but you look horrible.”

“I do not feel much better.”

Prompto frowned. “Please, cease healing. I beg of you.”

Ardyn held his hand. “I cannot.”

“Yes, you can. You mean too much to the kingdom and to me to lose. You will be crowned in but a fortnight’s time. Surely, the Scourge will end then.”

Ardyn shook his head, sadness in his eyes. He brought Prompto’s hand up to his lips and kissed it. “I know it is hard for you to see me like this, but it is worse for those victims. If I can spare them even a fortnight worth of pain, it is what I must do.”

Prompto wrapped his arms around him, kissing him fiercely. He was truly the kindest man the world had known.

The day of the crowning is as prominent a memory as meeting Ardyn. He remembers the hope that filled him that morning and day leading up to the event. Color was returning to the prince’s features, and Prompto rejoiced that this would once again become his natural pallor.

He had spent the day lovingly helping him prepare, from dressing to encouraging. The crystal’s choosing ceremony was more a formality than anything. None had ever been rejected, and all that Ardyn had given, there was not a doubt in Prompto’s mind that he would be deemed the Chosen King as predicted at birth.

“Go now, my king.” He touched his hand to his upper chest reassuringly.

Prompto sat near the front of the audience hall. It felt strange being among such fineries after such a long time living from rest stop to rest stop. This was his first time visiting the Citadel, and he gawked at the artistic architecture until Ardyn stepped up to the room’s dais. His father, King Algernon, gestured to the massive looming crystal as he began his speech about tradition, the Chosen King’s prophecy, and the Astrals’ blessing.

Then, Ardyn was instructed to rest his hand on the crystal to commune with the Astrals. The hall fell silent as he did so.

A flash of indigo energy surged from the crystal, knocking Ardyn to the ground. The air sizzled with an overwhelming power, and when Prompto squinted, he could just make out the outline of a being surrounding the crystal.

“Be back, tainted,” came a rumbling voice like a thunderstorm.

“But,” Ardyn stumbled to his feet, face aghast, “I have done all that I could!”

“That may be,” said the voice dispassionately. “I had believed in you from the start, but your actions have become your undoing. Look at yourself.”

Prompto jerked his eyes to Ardyn and gasped. His natural skin tone was replaced with creeping blackness. It was far worse than he had seen any Scourge victim before turning completely. Ardyn looked as distressed as Prompto felt.

“In healing others, you have damned yourself. You are no longer worthy of our light, Accursed.” Another surge of energy knocked Ardyn back again. “You shall live out eternity in wait of the true Chosen King. Only he shall end the suffering that you have brought upon yourself.”

With that, the crystal’s light dimmed and the air returned to normal. Ardyn’s black skin dissolved back to normal, yet his hair was now painted a rusted crimson and he looked younger and healthier than even before healing the Scourge.

Hesitantly, Prompto went to him, hands hovering over him. “Are you alright?”

“What do you think?” Ardyn snapped. Not a moment later, he bit his lip. “I am sorry. I did not mean to snap at you.”

Prompto opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by another voice.

“Guards, seize this traitor.” It was Ardyn’s brother Izunia. Prompto had only met him that day in passing, but the smugness on his face was enough to make him hate him.

“Your Majesty?” asked the guards.

Algernon was silent for a moment before giving a single nod of the head. “Though my son he may be, the Gods themselves have shunned him. Therefore, he must be purged from our sacred land.”

“No!” Prompto cried. He clawed at the guard’s arm who grabbed Ardyn.

“No,” Ardyn said, shaking his head.

Prompto wanted to argue, wanted to scream at Izunia and the Gods for doing this, but his love won out. If Ardyn cared more about his safety, he would ensure it.

Sorrowfully, he watched as Ardyn was dragged away to the dungeons.

Ardyn’s execution took place four days later. Prompto could not bear to attend, instead holing himself up within the small Lucian cottage he and Ardyn had made their own. Though they had spent little time there, it still felt like home, with Ardyn’s scent and medical journals filling the rooms.

He cried and mourned far into the night. It was only the next morning that he realized the emptiness he had expected was missing.

He learned the reason why soon enough. The kingdom was in a panic, for Ardyn had not been executed. First, he had been hanged only for his neck to right itself. Next, he had been guillotined, only for his neck to reattach itself. Lastly, he had been tied to a stake and burned alive. His skin burned but regenerated as soon as it singed. Ropes destroyed, he had walked away unhindered, flesh still aflame, a cruel smile upon his lips, or so witnesses said.

Prompto was unsure what to feel at this revelation. Ardyn was alive! Ardyn was indestructible. The Astral’s words came back to him.  _ You shall live out eternity.  _ Did that mean he was now immortal? Then there was the concern of his cruel smile. His emotional wellbeing was far more troubling to him at the moment.

Pushing aside his fears about Ardyn’s condition, he followed the rumors in search of him.

Prompto found him not a week later in a small town at the edge of Niflheim. The rumors must have been contained to Lucis, for no one seemed off-put by his presence.

Ardyn was gathering water at the town’s well when their eyes met from across the street. He tensed, a look of weariness akin to a frightened animal on his face as Prompto walked to him.

Prompto placed a gentle hand on his upper arm. “You are alive,” he whispered.

Ardyn just nodded silently.

“You were smart not to return. The panic has only now begun to calm.” Still, Ardyn did not speak, so Prompto continued. “I mourned you, but here we are together.” He wanted to praise the Astrals for allowing them more time, but he knew he could not, for his fate was still unknown. Instead, he chose to kiss him, smiling softly when he finally responded.

They lived there quietly in Hearthstone. Adamant in his refusal to attempt healing again, Ardyn made a living by selling produce while Prompto sold his paintings and sang on the streets for donations. Yet, Ardyn was noticeably different. His shyness had been replaced with random outbursts of anger, and though Prompto grew skilled at handling him, they only increased in frequency.

One day, Prompto caught him twisting a boy’s wrist at his produce stand. “Ardyn!” Prompto yelled, smacking his hand away. “What are you doing?”

Ardyn pointed at the boy, eyes flaring. “That brat stole from me!”

“So, what? What does hurting him solve? Can’t you see how frightened he is?” He gestured to the trembling boy.

A cruel smile formed on Ardyn’s face as he eyed the boy. “Made sure he never stole from me again.”

His tone sent a chill over Prompto. He turned to the boy, “Go, and never come back here ever again. Did you not hear me?” To his relief the, the boy ran away.  

“What the hell was that, Ardyn? Why would you harm a child?”

Ardyn tsked. “As if anyone would have missed him.”

Prompto clutched his arm. “You would not…”

“Oh, really? You have no idea what I am capable of.”

“You are right,” he answered, swallowing. “I do not even know who you are anymore.”

Ardyn tilted his head. “Does that frighten you?”

Prompto met the condescension in his eyes. “Is that what you want? Fear?”

Ardyn stepped close, cornering him against the food stall. “Are you offering?”

Heart racing, Prompto stared into his glinting amber eyes. He _  was _  scared. Of what Ardyn was proposing, but also of what this meant for the man he loved. What was he becoming? He could say no, he had that option. But what then? Wait for him to subject harm on some other victim? “If that is what you want,” he answered thickly.

Ardyn shuddered and brushed his cheek against Prompto’s forehead. “The fun we will have.”

Prompto did not know what to expect. Torture perhaps. When they got home, Ardyn pushed him down on their bed. Removing Prompto’s clothes, he tied him to the headboard with a thick rope and ran hands along him in what could have been loving strokes if not for the sadistic smile on his face.

“Good, so good and pure,” he muttered as if to himself.

Prompto shivered in a mix of anticipation and fear. He knew these hands and the pleasure they could bring him.

One of Ardyn’s hands traced along his thigh as the other rubbed at his nipple. It started as a pleasant tingling sensation, but he kept on rubbing until the nipple felt raw. He squirmed as far back as the rope would allow him, but Ardyn just moved in closer, keeping up his movements.

“That is enough,” Prompto complained.

“Is it?” Ardyn asked, an unfamiliar look in his eyes. “I do not think you have any say in the matter.”

Prompto jerked his arms against the restraint, but it held solid.

Ardyn chuckled. “You are not going anywhere until I am done with you.”

He would not really hurt him, would he?

The hand on his thigh moved up to his stomach, nails scratching as it did. It was only the cusp of painful but it was enough to put Prompto on edge.

“Ardyn, please…”

His partner’s smile widened, nails flexing deeper into the soft flesh of his stomach. “What is wrong? This is just a bit of lovemaking.”

Prompto could not believe that was all it was. Not with that smile.

The hand on his nipple finally stopped rubbing to trace over his bottom lip. “Always so pretty. Prettiest with your mouth stuffed.”

Ardyn stepped off the bed, undressing himself languidly. Prompto watched in a haze. The man had always been attractive, only growing more so with his gleaming eyes and crimson hair, and seeing his body instantly heightened Prompto’s arousal.

Too slowly for comfort, Ardyn crawled over Prompto, stopping right near his face. “You will take me like a good boy.” It was not a request, and without waiting for a reply, he pushed his cock into his mouth.

Laying down as he was, Prompto had little control, and Ardyn worked down his throat with harsh thrusts. Prompto closed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath through his nose as he focused on sucking and relaxing his throat.

Ardyn sighed, hands holding the headboard as he rocked his hips. “Yes, that is it.”

Prompto sucked harder and hallowed his cheeks like he knew he loved. In response, Ardyn rocked in extra far, and Prompto began to choke. He did not pull out immediately, and when he did, Prompto gasped in heavy breaths.

Ardyn cupped his cheek, giving him a look Prompto was more familiar with. It was caring and appreciative.

“Sorry,” Prompto said hoping for his usual reply of “Nothing to be sorry for.”

Instead, Ardyn devoured his mouth in a fit of unusual intensity. Unreserved fire and demand met him. His tongue plunged between his lips, tasting all of him. His hands drove all along his frame, his sides, his back, tugging at his skin and crushing their bodies together. It was overwhelming and heady, especially when Ardyn’s hands groped at his ass, one teasing along his opening while the other kneaded at him.

The endorphins were quickly stealing his thoughts away. All fear was gone, replaced by passion. He kissed back, straining against the rope to get as close as possible, needing to feel all of him.

Ardyn pressed at his opening, raw, but Prompto’s mind didn’t care, arching against him, straining for that contact. Only when he started to press in and the burn spread through him did Prompto jolt away instinctively, a cry on his lips. Tears sprung to his eyes as Ardyn continued his torturous push inside.

“I cannot—”

“Yes, you can,” Ardyn cut him off with cold determination.

Prompto bit his lip, tasting blood, as Ardyn finally bottomed out. He gasped out in relief, only for Ardyn to snap his hips back, then in again. Pain burned through him, replaced soon after with pleasure when Ardyn’s hand found his neglected cock and stroked it to full-hardness.

“You are doing great for me, Prompto. Giving just what I need.”

His next thrust hit his prostate, and the words floated in Prompto’s mind as he drowned in the foreign rush of pleasure-pain. Rhythm growing erratic, Ardyn kissed him again. His hands gripped his ass and hefted him up for a greater angle.

Prompto broke the kiss with a moan as his prostate was hit dead-on, again and again with force. His mind fizzled out as he came harder than ever.

Ardyn pushed in a few more times before groaning in his own release. He slumped down onto Prompto, only seeming to remember he was still tied to the bed a moment later. Efficiently undoing the knots, he wrapped his arms around Prompto, looking entirely content.

Prompto stared at him for a long while, mind slowly working through what had just happened. He had said that was what he needed. Prompto remembered Ardyn’s skin tainted black and those horrible rumors about his flesh burning only to regenerate. What had he become?

Looking at him now, though, Prompto knew the man he loved was still there. If that was what he needed, Prompto would give it to him.

Prompto had never been a fan of pain, but enduring pain inflicted by a man he loved held a strange allure. No matter how dark his look or words, how harsh the lash or grip, no matter the sense of depravity, beneath the surface, he could still feel that kind man. At the end, he always returned in full, even apologizing and tending to any damages when necessary.

Prompto never felt violated. There were so many times Ardyn could have done more, could have easily killed him if he so chose, but he always remained right at the edge of what Prompto could take, consciously ensuring his mental and physical well-being.

He truly believed they had made the most of a bad situation when the end came. This final memory is hazier than the rest. No angry mob nor Scourge came to claim his life, only the passage of time. While Prompto’s hair turned grey and his skin sunken, Ardyn did not so much as age, still fiery in eyes and hair when he sat at Prompto’s deathbed. Bones too brittle now, he lay in bed awaiting the inevitable.

He was ready to go.

Yet, Ardyn’s eyes burned with an angry sorrow, hand clenching down on Prompto’s painfully. “I will not let the Astrals take you away from me.”

Prompto frowned. What would become of this broken man without him there to ground him? Dread pierced his heart. “Come closer,” he whispered.

When Ardyn moved in, he gave him as much light and encouragement as he could in that final kiss. “Do not lose hope, my love.” Prompto reached to cup his face but did not make it there, hand falling limp as his eyes slid shut for the last time.

Still, his spirit lingered. He watched as Ardyn stared at his lifeless body with incomprehension. “Prompto?” he asked. “Hey, Prompto?” When he did not stir, Ardyn released the cry of a broken man. His head fell back, eyes ablaze. A dark energy radiated around him causing the air to sizzle. Prompto tried to touch him but found that he was nothing more than a passing voyeur.

Outside, he heard the billow of what could only be a daemon followed by agonized cries. Though daemons had roamed the land for decades, not once had they ventured inside a human settlement. The cries grew closer.

“Ardyn, what are you doing?” he asked, sorrow lacing his words.

No answer came aside from heavy panting. His skin appeared to move, as if snakes were crawling beneath, before turning that ugly shade of black it was so long ago.

Not a second later, Prompto found himself transported somewhere else. It is both a place and not a place. The afterlife, he was told, though it overlaps the realm of the Gods.

Most of the Gods keep to themselves, but the kind female deity who greeted Prompto upon his arrival has become a fast friend. He likes chatting with her, but he spends most of his time watching over Ardyn and wishing there is something he could do.

He has watched as negativity overtook all of Ardyn’s positive qualities. Now only envy, anger, and obsession fill him.

He watched, helpless, as Ardyn made deals with corrupt Niflheim scientists to begin daemon experimentation. Together, they created humanoid soldiers, all bearing Prompto’s face.

Often, Ardyn would stand before the stasis water tanks, hand poised over the glass. “Just as beautiful as I remember,” he would say in awe. Just as often, Ardyn would scribble notes across endless pages, muttering to himself about finding the formula for perfection.

More so, Ardyn would watch over Prompto’s remains, now a solidified crystal of preserved ice. Horrified, Prompto has even witnessed Ardyn relive himself upon his remains at times with twisted lewd expressions which is always replaced by one of despair.

“Would you like to help him, my dear?” Etro’s voice startles Prompto out of his thoughts.

He turns to look at her. Her large white wings tipped with gold are slightly pulled in but not folded, a sign he has learned means she is in a pleasant mood. Her curled hair sways with a nonexistent wind, another sign of content. “Of course I do, but there is nothing I can do from here.”

Her eyes shimmer with otherworldly light. “What if you could return there?”

Prompto makes an undignified squeal. “Are you going to send me back?”

“That is up to you,” she says kindly. “Remember, it is only within my power to reincarnate, not restore life to that which has been lost.”

Prompto considers this. “Will I remember him?”

Etro is silent for a long moment. “That is uncertain. You will forget your life, however, if your bond is strong enough, inklings of memory may return.”

“Do you think I can help him any more than I did in the past?”

Etro smiles. “That I am certain of. You, little light, hold more power than you know.”

Prompto smiles at the surge of confidence. “Yes! Please send me back!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry this took so long. I was dragging me feet when it came to plotting out the end of this, but managed to actually write all the ending plot parts in one sitting. It, sadly, took me a week to finish editing it to post, though. But here it is finally finished, two chapters with completely unbalanced lengths xD

Oh, Gods, Noct’s tongue is inside his mouth and, oh Astrals, is he kissing him passionately. One of his hands is holding his face tightly in place by the back of the head while the other runs trimmed nails across the skin of his abdomen, and shit if it doesn’t feel good. Yeah, okay, this is pretty tame and they are fully clothed, but Prompto isn’t at all embarrassed by the needy noises he is currently making. They have never gone further than making out and have done little more than steal brief kisses in the dark of night or behind the cover of trees since leaving on this trip. Gladio and Ignis know about them of course—have known ever since Ignis walked in on them to find Prompto in Noct’s lap and the prince sucking at his throat—but still, they don’t want the lecture PDA will surely earn them about how the sole purpose of this trip is for Noct’s wedding. Neither of them is quite ready to face the reality of that little problem yet.

So, yeah, Prompto is beyond thirsty. If Noct’s tongue feels this wonderful against his own, how will it feel against other parts of him? And if Noct’s mouth tastes this great, how great would the rest of him taste? His mind is whirling, blood surging straight to his groin at an alarming rate. He moves to straddle Noctis upon the caravan’s sofa. Gladio and Ignis are just outside, and they both know this privacy will be short-lived. Still, part of Prompto doesn’t care. If they are quiet and quick enough, it’ll be fine. Prompto ruts his growing need against Noct’s firm stomach, and Noct’s hand trails up to his chest. But as soon as he circles a nipple, pounding comes at the caravan’s door.

“Hey, lovebirds! Get your asses out now! We don’t have time for your lollygagging!”

Those two have some crazy parental sense. Prompto breaks out in a fit of giggles at the preceptive timing, but Noctis glares in irritation.

“Sorry, Prom. We’ll find a time to do it, I swear.”

Wiping at his watering eyes, Prompto shakes his head, “No sweat.” Calling loudly for Gladio to hear, he says, “Be out in a minute.” He smiles at Noctis and kisses him again, then another softer peck. “There’s no rush.”

Noctis gives a weak smile and squeezes at his hand. “Thanks for sticking with me. Even without me putting out.”

“Dude, nowhere else I’d rather be.” With that, he jumps up and skips out the door.

Gladio stands nearby with crossed arms and a knowing look. “Took you long enough.”

Prompto feigns bashfulness. “Sorry, big guy. Was a little busy.”

“I bet.”

At least Ignis looks in better spirits, more bemused than judgmental. No lecture on the way, it seems. “We haven’t all day,” he says.

“Yeah, yeah,” Noctis grumbles, finally trudging his way out of the caravan. “What’s the plan for today, anyway?”

Ignis shakes his head, looking exasperated. “Do you listen to nothing that I say?”

“I heard you, Iggy,” Prompto chirps happily.

Ignis gives a thankful smile his way. “Thank you, Prompto. As I informed you at breakfast, we will be catching a boat here in Galdin Quay to Altissia. That was our original intention for this trip, or have you forgotten?”

“What if I did?” Noctis mutters.

Ignis frowns and shakes his head. “Might we begin to pack and head on our way?”

“On it,” Gladiolus answers.

It takes about a half an hour to head to the docking pier (a feat, considering how unhelpful and detractive Noctis was with packing). The pier is past the Mother of Pearl which is fairly busy at this time of day. The patrons ignore them, thankfully failing to recognize the station of their entourage. However, one peculiar middle-aged man in a long black jacket unfitting the pleasantly warm weather comes up to them with a crooked smile. He has striking amber eyes and hair a unique shade of reddish violet and wears a black fedora that he tips courteously at his approach.

His eyes drift over them all but remained the longest on Prompto. “I’m afraid you are out of luck. The boats bring you here but they shall not take you forth.”

“What’s your story?” Gladio asks, eying him suspiciously.

Prompto wonders the same thing. The man looks so out of place yet carries himself as if he owns the ground he walks upon. It is strangely intriguing.

“I’m an impatient traveler, ready to turn ship.” The man strides past them, clutching something in his fist. “The ceasefire’s getting us nowhere.” Before Prompto can blink, the man whirls around and throws whatever he has in his palm straight toward Noctis’ face. Ever proficient, Gladio snatches the thing before it can strike and moves closer to his charge. “What’s this?” he asks gruffly. “Some sort of souvenir?”

“Consider it your allowance.” The man gestures at Noctis.

“Yeah? And who’s _  allowing _  us?” Gladiolus demands, stepping closer.

To Prompto’s amazement, the man shrugs, entirely unfazed by Gladiolus’ passive aggressiveness. “A man of no consequence,” is his vague answer as he turns on his heel and walks away.

“Yeah, right,” Noctis mutters.

Yeah, there is definitely something off about him. Prompto was downright terrified when he first met Gladio because of his stature, yet this man casually riled him up as if he was as harmless as a toddler. “What was that about?”

“He seemed to know who we are,” Ignis says. “His garb suggests he is of a high rank of some kind. We should be on guard.”

“Yeah,” Gladio agrees. “I didn’t like the look in his eyes. He’s planning something.”

“He also threw money at my face.”

“Quit whining. Didn’t hit ya, did it?” Gladiolus grumbles.

“But what if it had and ruined my beautiful face?” he whines.

“Don’t worry, Noct!” Prompto takes his arm in his, smiling cheekily. “I’d love you even if your face got smashed in.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Their “vacation” has been replaced with harsh reality. Insomnia has fallen, the entire royal family announced dead. They are left stranded in Lucis and wanted by the Empire. With no way onward to Altissia, they travel to Lestallum to meet up with Gladio’s sister, one of the few acquaintances they know are safe. The reunion is bittersweet with the reminder of everyone who wasn’t lucky enough to make it out of Insomnia.

It isn’t until they are seated at the classy Leville hotel listening to Iris explain how she, the Amiticia butler, Jared, and his grandson Talcott made their escape that it sinks in that his own parents are most likely dead. He’s numb. He was never that close with them, hell he hardly saw them, but still, they were his parents. They gave him a place to belong and provided for him. He isn’t so much lonely at the thought of never seeing them again as he is directionless.

Noctis will always have a place and purpose as long as Lucis stands, but Prompto has nothing now aside from the prince--or is he the king now that his father is dead? This thought makes him queasy.

“Hey,” Noctis whispers to him once Iris is finished with her story, “you okay?”

Okay? How could any of them be okay? Still, he forces a shaky smile for his sake. “Yeah.”

Noctis frowns. “You don’t have to be. We all lost people, our home.”

“I...” Shit. His eyes feel tingly like he might start crying which is bad enough as it is, but he definitely is not about to cry in front of Iris and Jared and Talcott all who he literally just met. “Need to use the bathroom.”

He exits the room, not at all surprised when Noctis follows him out. They continue down to the end of the hall where there is a wooden bench. Prompto plops down, face falling into his hands as he tries to breathe through the threatening tears.

Noctis settles beside him, placing a comforting hand to his shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Maybe for him. Yeah, things have taken a shitty turn, but he still has a fiancée waiting and a kingdom ready for him to claim and protect. But Prompto, all he’s got is this flimsy place by Noct’s side. “How can you know that?”

“It has to be. We’ve got each other, right?”

For some reason, this only makes it harder to hold back the tears. As much as Prompto is Noct’s, Noct has never been his. He will marry Lady Lunafreya and leave Prompto as a side-time concubine or just a guard forced to watch them play out their happy ending. He came to terms with this long ago, but with his parents alive, they always seemed like an escape if that lifestyle ever turned out to be too hard for him. Now, he has no other favorable options unless he wants to live out his life sad and alone.

Noct tugs him against his side. “We’ll get through this somehow, I’ll make sure we do.”

Prompto’s sure they will but he isn’t sure they will do it in one piece.

Noct’s having headaches, the kind that splits your head open and fills it with prophetic mumbo jumbo. The Archaean, a freaking  _god_ , is calling out to him to find him and form a covenant with him. So, now they are asking the residents of Lestallum how they can get to the Disc of Cauthess. Prompto didn’t sign on to meet the Astrals, but apparently, that is what they are doing now.

Their search for information leads them up to the overhang where dime binoculars allow you to look out upon the entire city and far into the distance. Someone is already there using them. It’s that man again: the one from Galdin Quay. He’s dressed just like before, looking just as contentedly out-of-place. “What a coincidence,” he says in a tone which suggests the opposite.

“I’m not so sure it is,” Gladio says with crossed arms.

The man walks toward them, ignoring the comment. “Are not nursery rhymes curious things? Like this one: “From the deep, the Archaean calls. Yet on deaf ears, the Gods’ tongue falls. The King made to kneel, in pain, he crawls. ”

Gooseflesh rises on Prompto’s arms. How does this man know about the painful headaches? “So, how do we keep him on his feet?”

The man walks casually passed them, pausing in front of Prompto and smiling casually. “You need only heed the call. Visit the Archaean and hear his plea. I can take you.”

“I don’t know,” Noctis says cautiously.

Ignis and Gladio look just as cautious but undecided on what other course of action to take. No one else has given them so much as a lead. “We take the ride,” Prompto says at Gladio who finishes for him.

“But watch our backs.”

“Fair enough,” Noctis agrees. “Let’s do it.”

The man is smiling smugly as if he’s won something of great value. “My automobile is parked down that way.” He points to the car lot and begins leading them there. “She is a dear old thing. Pales next to your Regalia, but she has never let me down. I am not one to stand on ceremony, but such an occasion calls for an introduction. Please call me Ardyn.”

They follow Ardyn’s car until he stops at Coernix. “What say we call it a day?”

“What say we continue on to Cauthess?” Gladio asks with a hint of irritation. The sun is still high in the sky meaning there are still hours of safe travel left.

“The Archaean’s not going anywhere.”

“Neither are we under your stewardship.” Ignis is even more irritated, arms crossed over his chest.

Prompto eyes Ardyn nervously. The man is intriguing but he doesn’t feel safe to be around. More often than not, his eyes fall on Prompto, and he’s standing just a little too close to him at the moment. “So we make camp  _ with Ardyn.” _

“Hell no,” Noctis says immediately.

Gladio sighs. “Might as well get the tent up.”

“Oh, I’m afraid I’ve never really been one for the outdoors,” Ardyn says. “I shall foot the bill, so let us stay at the caravan over yonder.”

Well, that’s kind of nice actually, that he’s offering to pay. But that’s part of what is making Prompto feel so uncomfortable. What reason does this stranger have to be so helpful? Besides, his eyes are disconcerting and his smile is anything but sincere. 

It is obvious he has ulterior motives of some kind.

They spend the rest of the evening talking and eating outside the caravan. Ignis’ food is as amazing as usual, and Prompto is happily chatting away with Noctis at one of the two tables and showing him the photos he took that day. Ardyn leans in close to look over Prompto’s shoulder.

“Oh, you took some of me as well.”

His face is so close to Prompto’s. “Um, if you’d rather not be in photos...”

“I don’t mind in the slightest! Snap away!”

His hand reaches out to stroke at Prompto’s chin and he has to lean back against Noctis to avoid the touch. Noctis bolts upright, looking ready to sock his face in, but Ardyn raises his hands defensively.

“Relax, Your Highness.”

Noctis pulls Prompto up and into his arms possessively. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Just admiring that face. It is quite lovely.”

Noctis narrows his eyes at him. “Well, hands off. He’s my boyfriend.”

Ardyn chuckles. “I seem to recall the big one over there touching him earlier.”

“That’s different. I trust him.”

“You wound me. I realize I have given you little reason to believe me trustworthy. What might I do to gain your trust?”

“Stop giving him those looks, for one. They’re creepy.”

So, it isn’t just him being paranoid. Good to know.

The caravan is small. One bed, one couch, and a narrow strip of floor. It would make the most sense for Prompto, Noctis, and Ignis to all try to squeeze onto the bed, but big as he is, Gladio calls dibs. Noctis claims the couch for him and Prompto. It’s a tight fit, with them half sprawled on top of each other, but Prompto doesn’t mind. Ignis decides to join Gladio on the bed, leaving Ardyn to weather the floor. It’s extremely rude of them to force their benefactor into the worst sleeping arrangement, but hey, he’s an untrustworthy creep and doesn’t actually complain whatsoever about it.

Prompto doesn’t expect to sleep at all. Unlike Noct who can sleep under any circumstance, it’s harder for him and he can feel Ardyn’s eyes on him even in the darkness. Somehow, sleep does find him, though. He falls asleep and dreams of another life with another Ardyn. It’s...strange. In the dream, he feels happy and purposeful. The opposite of how he’s currently feeling.

Most of the context of the dream eludes Prompto when he wakes, but he remembers Ardyn’s face, soft and gentle, and he remembers how badly he wanted to kiss it.

The real Ardyn is wide awake, staring at him intently with that fake smile that makes Prompto squirm. It feels like he is seeing into his soul. “Pleasant dreams?” he asks with a cocked eyebrow.

“Nothing I remember.”

There is a devilish gleam in his eyes. “Don’t you hate when that happens?”

They reach the blockade around the Disc of Cauthess around mid-day.

“This better not be a setup,” Noctis says to Ardyn from the Regalia’s driver’s seat.

“Have I given you reason to doubt me?” Ardyn answers from his own vehicle.

“You don’t really inspire confidence,” Prompto says from the front passenger seat.

“Yeah,” Gladio says from behind him, “not very straightforward.”

“Hello!” Ardyn calls out to the guards manning the blockade’s wall. “It’s me! Be so kind as to open up!”

Immediately, the gate opens much to Prompto’s disbelief. “Wow! That actually worked.”

“I may not look like much, but I do have some influence,” Ardyn says casually. “Aren’t you glad we came together? Your audience with divinity lies ahead.”

“You’re leaving?” Prompto asks.

“I drop you at the Arcaean’s open door and with that bid you farewell.”

Prompto doubts that. But still, a part of him is oddly disappointed. Which makes absolutely no sense. He barely knows the guy and what little he does know is that he is suspicious and creeping on him specifically. He tries to shake the disappointment off as Noctis drives through the gate.

Noctis has forged the covenant with Titan, but things are still a nightmare. Lava is erupting from the ground all around them, Imperial forces block all escape paths, and the Regalia is nowhere nearby.

Gladio voices what they are all thinking, “Doesn’t get much worse than this,” Gladio says what they all are thinking.

They’re gonna die here. Prompto’s chest is tight. He can hardly breathe as his mind repeats  _we’re gonna die we’re gonna die_ on loop as if that will somehow help anything.

Then, out of nowhere, a Niflheim airship appears, large and looming, and under any other circumstances Prompto’d think  _Oh shit_ , but instead, his mind yells Ardyn’s name. He still can’t breathe which keeps him from psychoanalyzing himself over that.

“The empire!” Ignis shouts. “Now?”

The giant hatch opens to reveal Ardyn’s smirking face, and Prompto sucks in a lungful of air because he can suddenly do that for some reason.

“Fancy meeting you here!” Ardyn shouts down at them as if he had no idea they were there when he was the one who brought them here in the first place. “It occurs to me I never formally introduced myself. Izunia.” He touches his chest. “Ardyn Izunia.”

“Imperial Chancellor Izunia?” Ignis says in disbelief.

“At your service. And more importantly to your aid. I guarantee your safe passage. Though you’re always welcome to take your chances down there. Buried among the rubble, is it?”

Everyone turns to Noctis for guidance. “Dying here is not an option,” Ignis says. “We have no choice, Noct.”

“I know.”

And so they climb into the enemy ship.

Prompto’s never been good with politics. After he became friends with Noctis, Ignis attempted to teach him some, but he still feels entirely lost for the most part. That is why he has to ask for clarification about what Ardyn being the Imperial Chancellor means. Apparently, he is a high-up in the Niflheim military but does not actually issue orders to any troops. Prompto assumes that means people will listen to what he says if it doesn’t go against any other orders. That explains why he showed up in a Niflheim ship and why the Niflheim guards listened to him. What it does not explain is why he is helping them.

Curiosity, and something he doesn’t want to think about, leads him to ask the Chancellor outright. He shouldn’t take any chances, being the rookie fighter that he is. There is a dangerous edge beneath Ardyn’s nonchalance, but he’s sticking close to Prompto and he has to discuss something, so the words fall from his mouth before he can stop them. “Why would you help the enemy? Why not just leave us to die?”

Ardyn’s smile is more genuine than he’s seen it but it is just as unnerving. “How do you know I’m not leading you to your deaths as we speak?”

“I don’t.” Prompto rubs at his arm self-consciously. Ardyn’s hand comes to cover his and Prompto is too nervous to move away.

“Do not worry! I have reason to want His Highness to succeed in his mission.”

“Mission?”

There is actual mirth in the Chancellor’s eyes now. “Did you think the Archaean was the only Astral seeking a covenant? Oh no! The remaining five of the Six await his arrival. Won’t that be fun?”

Prompto swallows the lump forming in his throat. Five more Astrals? They barely managed to get passed one. It doesn’t help his nerves that Ardyn finds this amusing.

“Anyway,” Ardyn says when Prompto does not respond, “I am more interested in why you feel comfortable enough to ask an enemy officer his motivations. It is easily within my power to kill you with a snap of my fingers, you know?”

The lump is hard in his throat now, making his voice come out rough and frazzled. “I know that. I was just...curious.”

Ardyn chuckles, hand moving up to Prompto’s shoulder. “What is that saying? Curiosity killed the cat?” With that, he removes his hand and takes a step back. “Ah, well, I better check up on my crew. Always slacking off, these ones. Good help is hard to come by these days.” Winking, he flicks his wrist in a wave and exits through the rear door.

Noctis is not happy when Prompto rejoins the rest of the group in the next compartment. “What took you so long?”

“I was just talking.”

“With who?”

Prompto gulps, diverting his gaze from his. He knows this tone.

“Noct,” Ignis places a calming hand to his charge’s shoulder, “it is not fair to take out your frustration on Prompto.”

Prompto gives Ignis an appreciative look.

Noctis heaves a sigh. “Fine! But I know you were talking with Ardyn. Do what you want,” he says dismissively, “just be careful. I don’t trust him one bit. The way he keeps looking at you.” Noct’s hand clenches tight, and Prompto covers it with both of his own and brings it up to his lips.

“Sorry,” he whispers. “I’ll be careful, okay?”

“Yeah.”

Ardyn drops them off at Wiz Chocobo Post on the hunch that they “have further duties in Duscae.” He obviously knows more than he is letting on, and only seeing the fluffy baby chocobos he’s dreamed of all his life eases Prompto’s worried thoughts from a storm cloud to a haze.

The others are just as worried, and even the tiny balls of fur aren’t enough to calm their minds. Ignis is tense, in particular, contemplating all sorts of scenarios and contingency plans. First, though, they need to get the Reglaia back.

Prompto looks up from the tiny black ball of fur at his feet when Ignis hangs up his phone call.

“Cindy will let us know if she learns any news of the Regalia’s whereabouts.”

“Let’s not kid ourselves,” Gladio says, “the Empire has it.”

“I fear that is the case. What we need to figure out is exactly where it is being kept and what strategy to utilize to collect it.”

“Couldn’t we ask the Chancellor for help again?” Everyone gives him incredulous looks, and Prompto immediately wishes he’d kept his stupid mouth shut.

“You want to ask an enemy commander?” Gladio asks.

Prompto’s sure Ardyn would help. For some strange reason, he wants them to succeed, but Prompto’s the only one that heard him say so. He could tell them, but Noctis’ expression stops him. “Yeah,” he rubs at the back of his head, “stupid idea.”

“Damn right it is,” Gladio agrees.

Prompto’s looking anywhere but at Noct’s face when he sees a tuft of dark grey fur along the path. “Whoa, is that Umbra?”

They all turn to see Lunafreya’s messenger dog. Umbra barks and takes off running into the stormy wilds of Duscae. They follow to a grove of trees where a beautiful, otherworldly woman stands with eyes closed.

Prompto opens his mouth to greet her, but Ignis puts a hand out to stop him. Noctis approaches her and acts as if they are having a silent conversation. Telepathy?

“She’s a messenger,” Ignis informs him, “a spirit faithful to the Oracle.”

“For real?” This trip is definitely shaping up to more than he thought it would be.

Gentiana vanishes on the wind, and Noctis passes her message on to them. “Luna’s waking up the Astrals so that I can make covenants with them and claim the Ring of Luccii. Ramuh is near here.”

So, Ardyn was right. They have to form covenants with all the Astrals and need to seek out Ramuh here in Duscae. Now he’s even more unsure whether to tell them what Ardyn said or not. What does it mean that he knows more about their mission than they do?

After completing Ramuh’s trial, they learn the Regalia is at the nearest Imperial base. It was terrifying as hell battling a giant snake inside a dank, dark cavern, but the trial itself was infinitely easier than Titan’s. No deadly battle, just touching some runes. Maybe things won’t be so bad going forward.

At least that’s what Prompto hopes until they run into Lunafreya’s brother, Ravus, at the base. Luna may be on their side, but Ravus is not, it seems from his battle stance.

“I’d say that’s far enough,” Ardyn’s voice cuts through the night. Again, he knows exactly when and where to find them. 

Ravus scoffs and turns his back to them to scowl at the Chancellor.

“A hand, Highness?”

“Not from you.”

“Oh,” Ardyn says in mock pain, “but I am here to help.”

“And how is that?” Ignis asks.

“By taking the army away.”

Gladio takes a step toward him, all offensive muscle. “You expect us to believe that?

“When next we meet, it’ll be across the seas. It just so happens we have business of our own with the tutelary deity. Don’t we?” Ardyn cocks his head toward Ravus who graces them with a look over the shoulder but no reply. “Fare thee well, Your Majesty, and safe travels.”

With that, Ravus stalks away and Ardyn follows after.

With the Regalia back, they return to Lestallum. Instead of celebrating, when they return, they learn the city was attacked during their absence. Thankfully, Iris and Talcott are safe, but Jared was killed.

It hurts. More than it should considering Prompto barely knew him.

The private royal vessel at Cape Caem is their best bet on reaching Altissia, so they decide to head out the next morning with Iris and Talcott in tow.

The sooner they put an end to this whole thing, the better for everyone.

It takes Prompto a long time to fall asleep, and when he does, he dreams of Ardyn again. This time it’s more than kisses he sees. It’s more than what he’s ever done with Noctis even. It’s vivid imagines of them naked and shaking and smiling. It’s overwhelming passion and love beyond what he’s ever experienced and it feels intense enough to linger after the dream ends. But there’s darkness too. There’s Ardyn with a twisted expression. There’s pain and there’s sorrow, and Prompto has tears in his eyes when he wakes.

He’s also hard.

Noctis nuzzles against his neck, hand trailing down to his erection. “Someone’s happy this morning.”

Prompto flinches at both his words and touch. Thank the gods he’s turned away and Ignis and Gladio are out shopping or something so that no one can see his shameful tears. Not only is he dreaming of someone other than his boyfriend, but he’s dreaming of the fucking Chancellor. The creepy man with obvious ulterior motives.

He’s sick.

Appalled, Prompto shoves Noct’s hand off and pulls fully away from the bed.

“Hey! What’s wrong?”

Prompto shakes his head, refusing to face him, tears and shame hot on his cheeks. “Just want to take a shower. The others could catch us, ya know?”

He doubts he’s convincing and he rushes to the bathroom without looking back to see the hurt he knows must be on Noct’s face.

When they get to Cape Caem, another problem crops up. Cid needs mythril to get the ship back into working order, and Gladio decides it’s the perfect time to take a temporary leave of absence for vague “personal reasons” as the rest of them gather it.

To make matters worse, when they arrive at Steyliff Grove, the only known source of mythril deposits, they learn it is being controlled by the Empire. The three of them are already on edge because of Gladio’s absence, and Ignis is just suggesting they rethink their options when, out of nowhere, Ardyn approaches them.

He must have a sixth sense for knowing when they need assistance. As convenient as it is, he’s the last person Prompto wants to see. He can still feel the lingering effects of the dream and now recognizes what the look Ardyn always gives him means. Half of him wants to throw up while the other wants to punch him hard in the face.

“Gentlemen,” Ardyn calls out happily, “what a pleasant surprise. Fear not, I’ll put in a good word. Well, come along, then. I suggest you avoid unnecessary scuffles, seeing as you’re now a trio.”

As if it’s any of his business! Ardyn seems to find pleasure in Prompto’s angry expression. What’s his fucking deal?

“Oh, dear. Touchy subject?”

“One we won’t discuss with you,” Ignis says in that level voice that really means he’s pissed.

“Then let’s discuss why you’re here. Hmm…Mythril, perhaps?”

Prompto can’t say he’s surprised, seeing as he’s been two steps ahead of them this whole damn time.

“It’s a precious resource, you see. We can’t just let anyone get their hands on it. Give me a moment.”

He approaches the guards at the entrance. They have a lengthy discussion before he returns. “Alas, the ever-wary military. They’ll not abide visitors left unattended. I must prevail upon you to accept an escort. I have seen to everything.”

He introduces them to their guard, a feisty hunk of a woman named Aranea Highwind, and takes his leave.

Prompto takes some deep breathes as they begin to follow Aranea and notices Noctis studying him. “Just really didn’t want to see him today.”

“Right.” Noctis looks straight ahead as they press on.

After snagging the mythril and regrouping with Gladio, they return to Cape Caem. They haven’t slept in over 24 hours and Cid needs time to fix the ship, so they decide to wait until the morning to set sail.

Prompto and Noctis have been given a separate room from Ignis and Gladio. They haven’t talked much since the previous morning and Prompto knows he needs to resolve this somehow. Considering the situation, there is no way Noctis is going to marry Lunafreya tomorrow, yet Prompto can’t shake the feeling that reaching Altissia will change things somehow, and he doesn’t want Noctis to wear that confused hurt expression anymore.

Prompto approaches the bed and Noct’s eyes flick up to meet his. “We finally have a room with a lock,” he says, tugging at the end of his sleeves, not from shyness but fear he’ll be met with a cold shoulder. Noct hasn’t exactly been making him feel wanted the past couple days. Not that he can blame him.

The fear disappears immediately when Noct pulls him into the space between his legs, his voice coming out low and serious. “Are you sure?”

Prompto nods and knocks Noct down upon the bed and straddles him. Ardyn’s been there in the back of his mind since the dream, and he’s sick of it. Noct’s who he wants. His hands cling to Noct’s shoulders, firm and desperate, and Noct’s hands grip at his waist. Noct rocks him forward so that their clothed groins brush together. This friction is enough to set Prompto’s body on fire, and he can tell he could lose it quickly from this alone, but he needs more this time. He needs to prove his feelings, to himself as much as Noctis.

He kisses him hard, chest pressed firmly to chest. His lips demand control and Noctis gives it to him, hips grinding up into his. Prompto raises his torso and pulls his shirt up and over his head. Noctis gives him an appreciative look, hands moving up onto the exposed skin. His touch is grounding, and Prompto rides that feeling as he undoes his pants. Noctis is panting hard, probably close himself (they’re both horny virgins after all), but he sucks in a deep breath of anticipation even before Prompto removes them.

“Shit, Prom...” His reverent voice trails off. “You’re beautiful.”

It’s a lie, and Prompto’s heart flutters even more because of it.  _This_  is right, this  _feeling_  is right. Noctis is all he needs. Fuck the world and the planned wedding. This will work somehow, it has to. “Touch me.”

Breath stuttering, Noctis goes straight for his cock. It jumps at the contact, and they both gasp in response. This is real pleasure, not some dream delusion, and Prompto ruts frantically into the touch as Noctis begins to move his hand up and down his heated flesh.

Prompto’s lips find Noct’s again, his hands pulling at Noct’s own clothing in search of more. Noctis would have to stop what he’s doing to remove his shirt, so Prompto settles for just undoing his pants. Once they’re open, his hand slips inside and around his cock.

Noctis moans. “Shit.”

Prompto’s other hand takes hold of the one Noct has on him, stopping him before he cums too soon. “Please, Noct, I need you inside.”

“We don’t have to--”

Prompto twists his wrist in a way that wrings a long moan from him. “It’s what I want.”

Noctis shivers in anticipation. “Yeah. Okay.” He releases his grip to pull a foil packet of lube out of his pants pocket before shimmying out of them.

Prompto gives a light chuckle. “Always this prepared?”

Noctis blushes. “Well, yeah. Hopeful thinking.”

Prompto gives him a soft kiss. “I like your thinking.”

Noctis smiles against his lips as he opens the packet. He looks at the packet for a moment. “Doesn’t seem like enough.”

“Should be. Just pour it in your left hand, that way you can dip your right fingers in and spread the rest on your dick after.”

Noctis blinks. “You sure you haven’t done this before?”

“Uh,” Prompto fidgets above him, “total virgin.” He hates how this truth feels like a lie. It was just a dream, one he had no control of, he reminds himself for the hundredth time that day.

“Hey,” Noctis rubs over his arm, “I was just kidding.”

“Yeah, course.”

It’s easier not to think when kissing, so that’s what he does. It’s sloppy with Noct focused more on prepping him, but Prompto doesn’t mind that any more than he minds the slowness of the drag of one, then two, three of Noct’s fingers against his velvety walls. Finally, Noctis fists himself and nudges against his thigh. “Shouldn’t you be on your back?” he asks with a smirk.

“Thought you’d enjoy laying there while I do all the work.”

“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow at him. “Seems you know me well.”

Prompto chuckles. “I am your boyfriend, aren’t I? I don’t mind whatever.” He trails fingertips over his sides. “What do ya want, Noct?”

“I...” He pauses to think. “This is fine. You’re, gods, just so beautiful.”

That lie again, making his heart sputter. He surges forward, plunging himself down onto his cock the same moment their lips meet. He gasps at the stretch and has to hold still for a long moment. Noctis is rubbing soothing circles into his lower back as he breathes heavily, his hips twitching with need as he fights to stay still.

Prompto takes some deep breathes as well, forcing himself to keep going. It still takes longer than he would have liked, but he fully sheathes himself. He pushes up only to let himself drop back down, his head tipping back at the sensation.

“Shit, sorry,” Noct hisses when his hips thrust upward on impulse.

“Nng.” Prompto shakes his head. “Don’t...hold back.” It’s already overwhelming, but that is exactly what he wants.

Immediately, Noctis begins to thrusts up and Prompto pushes down so that they meet each one. Noctis’ hand strokes through Prompto’s hair. “Fuck, you should see yourself.”

Prompto whines. His pace quickens, one hand covering his cock while the other entwines with Noct’s. Noct holds tight to his hand, running his other over Prompto’s stomach. Normally, Prompto would shy away from such a touch, but right now it sends pleasurable jolts throughout his torso.

“Noct!” he whines. He bounces down harder.

“Prom! Shit, love you.”

Prompto makes to return the sentiment, but the words fall short. He’s said them more times than he can count, so why can’t he do so now of all times? Before Noct realizes his dilemma, he leans forward and kisses him.

Noct cums. It’s hot and messy but exactly what Prompto wants, and it sets him off right after.

The words still sit unspoken on his tongue as Noctis snuggles into his side.

They set sail without any more trouble.

Finally, they are at their initial destination. As he looks around, Prompto is struck with an odd sense of nostalgic déjà vu. His brains goes so far as to tell him the serpent fountain used to be gold instead of white and the bakery across the street used to be a library, among other things. 

The city is downright stunning, a water paradise full of beautifully crafted stone architecture, seemingly untouched by the war. It is easy to forget their end-goal is no longer Noct’s and Luna’s wedding when it is advertised everywhere. They are no longer here for a wedding but to forge a covenant with Leviathan.

With Luna being held in custody for her safety, Noctis goes straight to the First Secretary and somehow manages to convince her to allow them to undertake the Hydrean’s trial.

This trial is nothing like the others, though. If the Archean’s was a nightmare, this is hell on earth. Leviathan is brutal, unleashing a full-on tsunami upon the entire city. The beautiful water paradise is now a stormy sea of chaos. Noct’s floating in the air using the powers of his ancestors to try and appease the raging Astral, but Prompto’s too busy to watch. Leviathan’s wrath is unconcerned with anyone’s safety, and he and Gladio and Ignis are in charge of evacuating citizens, a task that sounded easier than it is turning out to be.

Waterways run all throughout the city, so every single stony pathway is now slippery wet if not outright flooded. There aren’t enough escape boats, so only a hundred or so citizens can escape at a time, leaving thousands to round up and protect and keep calm as the boats make their rounds.

They split up early on, each taking one section of the city to evacuate. With all the noise and chaos going on, Prompto’s only paying minute attention to his earpiece. Still, Ardyn’s deviously slick voice cuts through everything else, sounding impossibly close and twisting his stomach into knots. He looks around desperately but finding him is hopeless.

“As an advisor, I’m sure you have a plan to escape this, yes?”

It’s a threat. He knows it in his gut. He’s gotta find Ignis, fast!

He takes off running, headless of the frantic citizens and perilous stone beneath his feet. He slips and slides as he races from one side of the city to the other. Eventually, he can make out Ardyn’s rich voice with his naked ear and follows it until he can make out two forms in the distance.

Ardyn stands tall with a smug expression, foot grinding Ignis’ prone body into the stone.

“Get away from him!” Prompto huffs.

“Ooh, feisty. I like it.”

Prompto calls his gun, taking quick aim. Before he can shoot, though, the Chancellor lowers his foot and lifts his hands in surrender.

“No matter. My business here is done.”

Prompto should shoot him. He has every right to. But for some damn reason, his finger just won’t pull the trigger back. Still, he keeps the gun trained on him for the show of it as Ardyn retreats into the chaos.

“I would keep a closer eye on your friends if I were you. Do tell His Highness I said hello, will you?”

Everything is finally calm. There’s no more screaming or running or chaos. There’s just the grating background noise of the train skidding over the rails and an otherwise deadly silence between the four of them. They might have escaped the flames, but the heat from them still burns at their metaphorical skillet.

Broken. That’s the best word Prompto can think of. Ignis is unmoving and silent like a statue. Noctis is forlorn and brooding. Gladio looks ready to strangle someone. Prompto can’t blame any of them for it, though. Ignis lost his eyesight, Noctis his childhood friend, and Gladio his image of being a king. Even Prompto, who lost the least among them, can’t find the words to fill this suffocating silence. All he has are quiet mutterings to Ignis whenever he thinks to grab him some water or ask if he needs help finding the bathroom. It’s all he can do to keep his mind clear of dark and brooding thoughts.

It’s all Ardyn’s fault.

Why couldn’t he bring himself to shoot him? The bastard deserved a worse death than that.

This, and his uselessness, is all he can think about, so when Gladio lashes out at Noctis, he knows he has to do something useful for once.

“You think you’re a king, but you’re nothing but a whimpering child.”

“That’s not fair!” Noct snaps.

“Yeah? Big deal. Think what happened to Iggy’s fair? Grow up! Put that damn ring on your finger and put an end to this like a man.”

“Gladio,” Prompto starts, but Gladio throws his arms his way.

“Stay out of this! This is between me and our  _king_ ,” he snarls.

Noct’s glaring back at him now. “I can’t wear it until I’m ready.”

Gladio takes a challenging step forward. “Then be damn ready.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Course not. You can just drag your feet while the rest of us pay the price, huh?”

That’s it! He gets that Gladio wants Noct to step up and take responsibility, but he’s out of line. None of this is Noct’s fault! He stomps over to him. “That’s enough!”

Gladio huffs a humorless laugh. “Right, you would stick up for him. Go, take a cold shower and get your head on straight.”

“What?” Was he really implying that he wasn’t thinking clearly? “What the hell, Gladio!” He reaches for his arm, but Gladio smacks him in the face. The impact knocks him backward.

“And I’m the insensitive one,” Noctis mutters, turning on his heel.

They’ve stuck to themselves for a while now to clear the air. Prompto’s just been staring out at the snowy landscape. It hardly ever snows in Lucis, but now that’s all the eye can see. He thought he could distract himself from the doubts running through his mind, but it’s hopeless.

It’s clear he doesn’t belong here. Not on this mission or here with Noctis. He hasn’t been able to do a damn thing to help anyone. He doubts Noct would even miss him much based on how he didn’t even try to defend him from Gladio’s hit or comfort him after.

No. He shakes his head. It’s his own fault for being so weak and useless. With everything going on, he can’t just up and leave, but once it’s all over, if Noctis wants him to leave, he will. No questions asked and no whining.

A sound like a high bell fills the air, and when he looks away from the window, he sees Noctis coming toward him.

Act normal, he tells himself. Don’t make him worry. “I’m not liking that snow cloud. Kind of gives me the chills. Like, who comes up with this stuff? I couldn’t dream something like this if I tried. It’s a wondrous world.”

Noctis comes all the way up to him and punches straight at his face. Prompto’s so surprised, he barely manages to dodge out of the way. “Whoa, what’s going on?” he shrieks, backing away. “Easy there, buddy. Didn’t see that coming.”

Blue light shimmers as Noctis materializes his engine blade. “Shut up!” His voice cracks and Prompto would have reached out to comfort him if he weren’t striking right toward him with his blade.

Prompto jumps backward. “Be careful there!”

He keeps striking at him, a hateful look in his eyes, and Prompto takes off down the train’s aisle in a panic. Sure, he’s been useless but he hasn’t done anything to make him hate him, right? “Is this for real? C’mon, Noct. You’re scaring me! Seriously, man, cut it out! It’s not safe. Plus, you’re causing a scene.” He gestures to the next compartment where an old woman watches expressionlessly. “Quit playing around, okay?” Prompto’s voice trembles.

He’s stopped retreating, and Noctis takes advantage to slash at him. “You think this is funny?” His voice is harsher than Prompto’s ever heard it.

“Dude, are you seriously trying to kill me!?” This is not good one bit.

“Why wouldn’t I?!”

He sounds so upset, Prompto can feel his heart breaking. He never cared. It was all a lie, all of it. Why had he ever deluded himself into thinking otherwise? Because Noct said he loved him? Just as easily as he said he was beautiful. Lies. Lying was easy, right? Prompto lied every single day, pretending to just be a fellow Lucian, just another one of the guys. But he wasn’t. He didn’t know exactly what he was, but he knew the barcode on his wrist had to mean he was manufactured, right? He never deserved happiness. Noctis had every right to lash out, right?

Maybe they’d all be better off if he just closed his eyes and let him end it all...

“I’ve got you now. What’re you after, following me around this whole time? It’s all _your_  fault.”

Prompto’s heart clenches and he has to hold back tears. Does he really blame him over Ardyn? “What are you talking about? Do you really mean that, Noct?”

Noctis grasps at the collar of his shirt and holds him up against the wall of the compartment. The hand moves up to bite into his neck and an icy chill of fear shoots through Prompto’s nerves.

“Of course I do!” Noctis snarls with intense loathing. “You can’t talk your way out of this!”

“You won’t even let me! Noct, please,” he chokes out. “Can’t we talk for a sec?” He’ll leave. He’ll jump off the train if that’s what Noctis asks of him.

But he doesn’t want to die. He’s scared.

“Never.” Noctis pulls him away from the wall just to bang him back into it.

Prompto can tell he wants to make him suffer; he just doesn’t understand why.

It hurts. His chest hurts so much more than his constricted neck.

Turbulence jolts the train, and they both fall to the ground.

He’s got to get away. There’s an open hatch to the top of the train, and Prompto climbs it without looking back. He can jump off. That’s the best plan he can think of. But luck is not on his side, because Ardyn’s there waiting for him. What has Prompto done to deserve this?

His gun is out not a second later. “Don’t move, asshole.”

Ardyn smirks at him lazily. “Or you’ll shoot?”

“Hell yes.” He fully intends to this time.

No sooner than the words leave his mouth, however, Noctis joins them. He glances between them before lunging at Prompto and knocking him off balance.

Prompto tumbles over the side. The fall is longer than it should be, time slowed and stretched. Noctis gapes over the edge at him. “Prompto!” drifts on the wind like it’s being called by a ghost. Right before he lands in the freezing, not-as-soft-as-expected snow, his mind whites out.

This is okay. He can deal. He’s used to being alone. It’s freezing, but he’ll manage somehow. There’s no other choice.

He trudges on through the endless snow, no idea which direction he’s going in. For all he knows, he’s going in circles. He’s long since eaten the only food he had with him and he’s so worn out.

He knows he shouldn’t, but he crumples to the ground, letting sleep take him.

He wakes to crackling and warmth. His eyes blink in disbelief. Aranea, the feisty woman they met at Steyliff Grove, is seated across a campfire.

“Aranea?” he asks, incredulous. “What are you doing here?”

“That’s my business, Blondie. I do live in Niflheim, you know. What I want to know is why  _you_  are here. Alone and undersupplied. Do you have a death wish?” She’s glaring at him, but he can tell it’s out of concern.

Guilt twists at his empty stomach. “Sorry.”

“Dumb ass,” she mutters reaching out a hand. He stares dumbly at the granola bar in it. “Eat it.”

The crispness in her voice urges him on, and he hardly wastes the time to remove the wrapper before biting into it. His stomach is so pleasantly surprised by the meal, it almost hurts as it goes down. “Thanks,” he whispers once he’s finished.

“No problem.” She’s giving him a look that means she wants to know what the hell’s going on, but he doesn’t know what to say. “Out with it,” she barks.

“I...fell off the train.”

She raises a suspecting eyebrow. “That’s all there is to it?”

“Uh...Yeah.” It’s an obvious lie but she, fortunately, doesn’t press him further on it.

“Well,” she leans back into the snow on her elbows, “whatever happened between you guys, you’ll work it out somehow. Princey’s smitten with you, you know?”

“I’m not so sure.”

She smiles. “Just give it time.”

He isn’t going back. He doesn’t know where he’s going, but not back to them. He can’t. Not after all that. Noctis blames and hates him. He isn’t even human.

But Aranea doesn’t know any of that, and he doesn’t want her to know, so he gives her a tiny smile. “Yeah, okay.”

They chat for a couple hours about safer topics (such as the war and Ardyn), before Prompto’s eyes begin to droop.

“You’re still tired. Get some rest. I’ll keep a lookout.”

He’s struck by how lucky he is she found him. He’d probably have died by now if she hadn’t. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” She hands him a wool blanket that magically cuts out most of the biting wind.

He’s so tired, he falls asleep nearly instantly. Again, he dreams of Ardyn. The man is young and kind and makes Prompto’s chest warm. Like last time, he’s struck by overwhelming emotions. This time of love and sadness and pity.

The emotions are a jumbled mess when he wakes. The hate and anger are still boiling, but the love and pity are too. His heart feels like it’s split and it makes absolutely no sense.

How has Ardyn gotten so deep under his skin? He needs to know. If he can’t return to Noctis, he might as well find out answers.

“Take me to him.”

“To Princey? If you don’t know where he is, I sure don’t.”

“No. I mean Ardyn.”

“The Chancellor?” She gives him a confused look. “Why would you want to find that creep? Unless you’re planning on slitting his throat when he isn’t looking.”

“Maybe something like that.”

She takes a moment to ponder this, with a concerned expression. “Alright, I’ll take you, but you better not do anything stupid and get yourself killed. I didn’t save your sorry ass out here just for you to go and die on me.”

“I’m not planning on dying.” He touches a hand to his chest. “Scout’s honor.”

Aranea drops him off at a metal compound called Zegnautus Keep. It’s all sharp edges and tight spaces. Under any other circumstance, he’d turn and run. It’s intimidating as hell and his brain tells him seeking Ardyn out is an idiotic idea, but he’s sick of running and being useless and knowing nothing.

Aranea lingers in the entryway of the compound to give him a quick hug. “Wish I could stay and go with you but I’ve got a job to do.”

“No sweat,” he says meaning it. He never meant to interrupt her life with his personal problems. “Go do what you gotta do, and I’ll do what I gotta do.”

When the gigantic door shuts behind him, he knows he’s made a mistake. Claustrophobia overtakes him and he stumbles against the nearest wall as he struggles just to breathe evenly. Logically, he knows there’s plenty of space, but it feels like the walls are getting closer by the second and his vision is swimming. There’s a strange smell to the air, and he gags. Blinking, he sees a form appear out of thin air. One blink it’s there and not the next. Then, Ardyn’s smug smirk is clear.

“Going somewhere?”

Clink. Clink. Metal chains rattle when he tries to move his arms and legs. His eyes snap open, and his chest heaves in harsh, shallow beats that don’t manage to fill his lungs. He can hardly breathe, head swimming from anxiety. The sight in front of him causes his stomach to empty itself. There’s Ardyn--to be expected--but also rows upon rows of cylinder containment pods, and inside each one is a helmet-less MT with Prompto’s own face.

Stomach now empty, dry heaves rack him as his brain connects the dots. He isn’t human. He’s an MT.

Ardyn tsks at the mess he’s made on the floor. “And the admiral asked why I refused carpet. Such a pain to clean up the messes.”

“You...” Prompto gulps, his throat dry and nasty.

The Chancellor saunters over to a machine panel and clicks a few buttons. Seconds later, a tiny robot skids across the floor to clean up the vomit.

Ardyn steps toward him, and Prompto tries to move away, but he is chained to the floor and ceiling with just enough give to rock back and forth. A crooked smile slithers into place at his reaction. “Even now, betrayed and hopeless, you haven’t lost your fight it seems.” He almost sounds proud as he leans in close, locking molten eyes with his misty own. “That spark in your eyes...So much more real than the others, almost enough to make me falter.”

He traces a finger down his cheek. The touch sends a wave of cold electricity in its wake which makes Prompto feel sick all over again.

Ardyn squares his shoulders and sweeps a hand back at the pods. “But in the end, you are all the same.”

“No.” Prompto shakes his head, refusing to believe it. Even if it’s true and he is somehow an MT, he can’t be the same as them. There’s something different, something different in his genes or whatever. He isn’t some robotic killing machine. 

He can’t be.

“But you are.” Ardyn actually looks sad for a moment before resolve takes its place. “I just need to prove to myself it is so.”

“What are you planning?” It hurts to talk.

Ardyn gives him a long look before turning and walking away. When he returns, he holds a water bottle to his lips.

Prompto doesn’t open his mouth and water dribbles down his chin. Ardyn shakes his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. He pinches at Prompto’s nose so that he is forced to open his mouth, and once the first trickle slides down his throat, the blonde gulps the rest of the bottle. It’s bliss on his scratchy throat.

“Better?”

Prompto can feel saliva in his mouth again. He spits right in the creep’s face.

Cringing, Ardyn wipes his face off on Prompto’s dirty shirt. “Interesting...Maybe you are different from the others. No matter, you still aren’t  _real_.”

The words send a shiver down his spine. “What do you mean?”

It takes him a moment to answer. “These soldiers--your brothers--are programmed to act the way they do. Your programming is merely different--incomplete.”

That can’t be true! It can’t! These  _are_  emotions he’s feeling, they have to be. If not, it would be easier to breathe. “You’re lying! I love Noctis!”

Ardyn’s smirk doesn’t fully reach his eyes. “Why is that, I wonder. Perhaps because he wanted to be your friend? Because he silently cares about everyone? No, you’re with him because he’s the prince. You like the way it makes you feel being with him. It makes you feel important. Worth something.”

It’s a shameful truth he’s left buried. Growing up, he always felt useless, but Noctis gave him purpose. “How do you know that?”

“Oh, I know far more than I’m given credit for. When you’ve lived as long as I have, you learn many  _talents_. But back to the matter at hand, I’m sure you are telling yourself it must be love because you want to support him, am I right? You feel sorry that he has this marriage and destiny looming over his head, but deep down, you like that he has problems because it makes your own easier to deal with. Do you want to know the real reason you were drawn to him? Because of how similar he is to me.”

“He’s nothing like you!”

Ardyn cackles hysterically, long and shrill—so long Prompto wonders if his heart or lungs might give out from the strain. Purple begins to creep into his skin, but then his face reverts to that knowing smirk. “That is hilarious; I could laugh myself to death.”

Prompto wishes he would.

“You really don’t understand anything. You still think this is about saving the world, don’t you? You still think he has a chance.”

Prompto narrows his eyes. “Of course I do. I’m not about to give up on someone I love.” Something passes over Ardyn’s eyes at his words. “At the very least, he’ll beat  _you_.”

“And why is that?” Immense bitterness drips from his voice. “Because good always wins over evil?” He pauses to cackle once more. “What even is good and evil but a matter of perspective? Bahamut is the lord of light and I’m what you scrape off your boots, is that right? You know nothing of me.”

“I don’t want to!” Prompto spats.

“Keep telling yourself that. But can you honestly say you feel nothing when I do this?”

Then he’s kissing him. Prompto’s brain shuts down, conflicting emotions overriding it completely. Cold electricity shoots over his cheeks where Ardyn is holding onto his face and seeps into his mouth and down his throat. His stomach is twisting at the wrongness even as his heart skyrockets at the rightness. His body pulls back even as his lips melt against his with an overwhelming sense of familiarity.

“See.”

He’s so close, eyes burning like melted gemstone, and Prompto feels like the gaze is pulling at him like the legendary red string of fate. He sucks in a deep breath, reminding himself that he hates this man--that thought the only thing holding him back from the impulse to push back against those plush lips.

“Isn’t there an old saying about craving an intimate relationship with one’s creator?” 

The words, slick as ever, slip over Prompto like satin sheets, and he swallows. Why is he able to have this effect on him? He still doesn’t understand. It can’t be this simple. Closing his eyes against that hypnotic gaze, he shakes his head.

A laugh. “Want to test that theory?” Hands slide over his skin, down his neck and shoulders, over his dirty rumpled shirt and across the skin just above his black jeans. Goose-flesh rises immediately, from dread, anticipation, or both. The hands continue, working at his belt, and Prompto’s eyes snap open, earning him the sight of Ardyn’s tongue licking across his lips like a snake peeking out from a bush.

“Stop.” The plea lacks the force he intended and it does nothing to thwart the man’s actions.

“Aw, come now. No need to be so modest. It is not as if you are a virgin.”

It feels like a stone is lodged in his stomach, and he jerks against his restraints. “How the hell do you know that?”

There’s force behind his words now, but it only seems to please Ardyn. “Like I said, time has taught me  _talents_.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

This has to have been the worst idea he’s ever had. It would have been better to die by Noctis’ blade than be raped by this creep.

He tries to shake him off, but the restraints restrict his movements, and the hands finish unbuckling his belt with a clink. Next the button and zipper, then one of those hands is plunging straight in for the kill. There’s no preamble or tenderness like in his dreams. This isn’t the same, he tells himself, but a gasp escapes him at the contact anyway. Ardyn’s hand is rougher than Noctis’, but it’s skilled, and Prompto is already losing himself to the pleasure of it, as inexperienced as he is.

“Stop fighting,” he whispers, nipping at his ear after. His other hand slips beneath his boxes from behind, rubbing at him from both sides now, and his loose jeans fall some in the process.

Prompto has to bite his lip at the sensations of hot breath against his ear, rough tugging at his dick, and almost gentle caressing of his ass. Despite himself, his body is now rocking into the touches instead of fighting against them.

It’s sick. He’s sick.

That’s all he can think as moans begin to fall from his lips.

Ardyn pulls back just enough to study his reactions and takes a sharp intake of breath. “Exquisite.” There’s a layer of awe to his voice that causes Prompto to meet his intense stare.

White fills his vision, then he’s inside a small cottage filled with medical books and supplies. It feels save and like home.

Prompto is snapped out of his observation by a voice.

“Prompto,” a young yet haggard Ardyn is seated on a wooden chair removing his boots, “are you sure you are happy?”

“Why would you ask that?”

“I have put you through so much.”

“Hey,” Prompto goes to join him in the chair beside his and cups his cheek, “I chose to be here with you. I will not lie and say that it has been easy, but being with you has been worth it. The worst thing has been seeing you like this,” he gestures to his sunken eyes and the grey paler of his skin, “but this will end tomorrow. The Astrals will shine down on your pure efforts. I have been here with you through the worst, so you better believe I will stay with you through the best.”

Ardyn gives a short laugh. “Then, I need not ask, but I will anyway. Prompto,” he moves to the floor in front of Prompto, taking his left hand into his, “will you stand beside me now and for the rest of our days?”

“Are you asking me to marry you?”

“You know as well as I, that is impossible. But I will do whatever in my power to keep you at my side and to make you as happy as I can.”

Prompto gives a watery laugh. “You’re right. You did not need to ask, but I am glad that you did. Nothing would make me happier.”

“Really?” Ardyn looks in disbelief.

“Yes, really.” He wraps his arms around his neck, pulling him close. “I love you, Ardyn Lucis Caleum.”

Blinking at his tears, Prompto finds himself back in chains. The Ardyn in front of him is healthier and intimidating, but he looked just as much in awe. “Ardyn?” The name escapes him like a plea. He doesn’t know what for, but Ardyn jerks his hand with increased vigor making him whine for more. “Arydn, Ardyn.” The name spills out unbidden, his body uncontrolled as it moves into his grasp. His chest feels so tight and tears are still coming to his eyes. It is just so much, Prompto can barely even think anymore.

Ardyn’s eyes widen at his tone, hand slipping in its movement. “Prom...pto?”

Prompto’s chest constricts painfully. His hips grind into his hand once more as his mind whites out a second time. With a groan, the pieces finish clicking into place.

_ Ardyn. _

The tears come quicker now as Ardyn wraps his arms around his middle. The immortal’s similarly damp face presses into his shoulder. “Prompto.” It is the most wretched sound Prompto has ever heard in either lifetime, and everything in him screams out to hold the man back.

“Ardyn, please...”

It takes a second for him to compose himself enough to realize what he is asking for. “Oh. Oh, my gods.” He hurries over to the computer panel and presses a series of buttons. There is a hiss of air before the cuffs around his wrists and ankles unlatch.

Hanging as he is, Prompto stumbles forward. He tries to catch himself but is too weak to do so. Luckily, Ardyn is quick enough to catch him before he falls fully to the floor.

“Easy. You were out for a while and surely low on nutrients. Oh!”

Prompto’s arms wrap around him like a vice as he breathes in his scent. The small, burried part of him that remembered the past had worried the true Ardyn was too far gone, but here is that kind man he fell in love with.

“I thought I’d lost you.”

Prompto shakes his head against his chest. “Never. I’ve always been watching over you.”

Choking back a sob, Ardyn tugs him even closer. In silence, they shake and cry together. “How is this possible?” Ardyn finally asks.

“Believe it or not, not all the Gods are as merciless as Bahamut. You can thank Etro.”

“Sweet Etro.” The words slip out honestly and without hesitation just as they once did so long ago. They bring a gentle smile to Prompto’s lips. There is still hope for his soul.

“I want to help you.”

His laugh is a cruel sound. “Nothing can be done. Only  _His Majesty_  can release my soul.”

Prompto lifts his head to meet his gaze with intensity. “I’m not giving up on you!”

The cruelty melts into sorrow. “Only death is waiting for me beyond this curse.”

Prompto swallows and leans in to give him a chaste kiss. “Fear not, my love. Etro will be waiting for you in the beyond. Her wings will enfold you and protect you from Bahamut’s wrath. You will be safe again.”

Emotions dance over Ardyn’s face. The negativity of the curse is fighting against the relief. Prompto clasps his hand in his, willing the positivity to win out.

“Most importantly, no matter how long you may have to wait, I  _will_ join you. We  _will_  be together. I swear it.”

Instead of answering, he presses their lips together in a deep kiss. The emotional tidal wave weakened Prompto’s erection, but this kiss is enough for it to stir up again, and he is quick to respond by moving to sit in his lap. He moans into his mouth and Ardyn’s hand is on him again. As soon as he is stroked back to full hardness, Prompto shakes his head.

“It’s been so long. Make love to me like you mean it.”

Ardyn looks pained. “I will need lube.”

Prompto kisses over his cheek and nose. “We’ve waited so long, surely a few moments more is worth it.”

“Yes,” he groans, standing stiffly. 

He hurries from the room and Prompto is left alone with his doppelgangers. Even with his memories back, they make him uneasy, with their unfocused eyes and uncanny likeness. He understands they were a coping mechanism for Ardyn, but he still hates that they exist. They are a sick manifestation of his mental state, a meeting of his loving sorrow and his twisted lust. 

By the time Ardyn returns, his cock is only semi-hard again. “Ardyn?” he says.

The immortal hums in response.

“Can you please close the pods? They make me uncomfortable.”

Ardyn gives him a kiss. “Of course, my love.” 

All it takes is one press of a button on the panel for the pods to shut. Immediately, Ardyn is on the ground with his hands back on him. Their mouths clash together with desperation that only comes from centuries apart. Even back to himself, there is ferocity to Ardyn’s lovemaking. His teeth bite into his lips, hand gripping tight at his shaft, other hand racking nails over his back. It’s fine, though. Prompto’s had much worse, and this, this makes sense. He can’t hold himself back either, hands tugging at his wily crimson hair and threadbare coat. 

“Naked. Now,” he demands as soon as Ardyn allows him space to breath.

The immortal chuckles and does as he’s told, removing his coat and dress shirt first since it is most convenient. Prompto’s eyes trail over each inch of skin he exposes. He’s seen him naked from the beyond, but the image did not compare to to the sight in-person. Immortal he might be, but his body has still been aged by the passage of time. The skin along his abdomen is now loose and nearly transparent. Still, Prompto finds him beautiful and runs his fingertips over the lines of his veins as the man jerks his pants and underwear down. 

“Am I to do all the work?” he jokes, gesturing to the clothes Prompto is still mostly wearing. 

“Gods, no.” He leans forward, flicking his tongue over the head of Ardyn’s cock. 

“Hells.” 

His large hand grips at Prompto’s hair, pulling him closer, and Prompto takes the invitation, sucking his cock into his mouth like a starving man. He’s always loved doing this, giving Ardyn pleasure and watching him fall apart as easily as the man does to him. His body isn’t used to this, forcing him to take slow, shallow bobs of his head, but Ardyn doesn’t seem to mind, and the pre-cum is warm and familiar on his tongue. Ardyn’s hand twists at his hair, holding him in place as he begins to rock hard but shallow thrusts into his mouth. Tears prickle at Prompto’s eyes, but he focuses on breathing though his nose and on the pleased sounds Ardyn’s making. Finally, he tugs Prompto off of him with a rumbling grunt. “All these years I’ve tried to satisfy myself, but nothing could ever compare to you.” His eyes are blown and his chest rises and falls with heavy breaths.

Prompto surges upward to kiss at his lips. Ardyn moans at the taste of himself. His hand roam up under Prompto’s shirt, feeling along his ribs and nipples. Prompto gasps when he twists one between two fingers. 

“Are you going to return the favor?”

Without missing a beat, Prompto removes his shirt and flings it away. He reaches down to tug his pants the rest of the way off, but Ardyn’s mouth finds one of his nipples. “Ugh.” His hands pull his face flush against his chest. 

He kisses and nips at him for a long time, so long Prompto can feel his cock dripping with need. “Shit, Ardyn,” he whines.

Ardyn pulls off him with a smirk. “Are you ready, love?”

“Do you need to ask?” he huffs.

Popping the lid to the lube open, he laughs. “It is only polite.”

Prompto shakes his head, a joke about him choosing the best time to play gentleman resting unspoken on his tongue for fear of ruining the moment. Instead, he takes Ardyn’s hand, now coated in lube, and brings it to his opening. “Just get a move on. We’ve waited long enough.” 

This gets Ardyn into gear. One finger pushes into him. “You are so much tighter now.”

“No dip,” he says with a sigh as a second finger pushes in.

Ardyn snorts at the word dip. He pumps his fingers a few more times and places a kiss to his shoulder blade.

“I’m good,” Prompto says.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

Ardyn nods. Removing his fingers, he cups his ass cheeks and lifts him into place over his cock. Prompto is the one to push down onto him, but Ardyn grips at his supple ass and lifts him in jerky up and down motions. Prompto’s mouth falls open at the sensation and spreads his legs as wide as he can. It’s so overwhelming, and he clings at the man’s shoulders as tears find his eyes again. 

“Shit, shit.” He wants this to last for an eternity, but his body has no endurance, and all-too-soon he can feel himself on the edge.

Ardyn must notice for he slows his movements and noses at his neck. “There so soon?”

“Not by choice.”

He chuckles into his skin and tips them back so that Prompto is laying flat on the ground. Ardyn holds himself over him as if he is planning to do push-ups and rocks back into him. Prompto cries out, canting his hips and reaching for his hands.

“I have dreamed of his moment all the time we have been apart. You have no idea how badly I wanted to see your face twisted in desire and feel the warmth inside you again.”

Prompto moans at the words, turning his face to kiss at the man’s arm. He wills himself to hold out but only lasts a handful more thrusts before he’s cumming. Ardyn groans at the feeling of his tightening muscles and roughens his thrusts until he’s cumming as well. 

There is sweat beaded on his forehead, and Prompto pushes at the hair matted there. “Sorry.”

He shakes his head. “We’ll just have to go again later.”

Prompto gives him a sad smile. “If there is time,” he says knowing there won’t be. 

Ardyn makes to pull out, but Prompto wraps his arms around his middle, holding him close. “Let’s stay this way a little longer. It’s  _ right _ .” 

He relaxes into his hold and nestles his face back into his neck. “You are right. As much as I hate destiny, it does feel as if we were fated to complete each other.”

It might just be hopeful thinking, but he feels more stable like this, as if the negativity can no longer wiggle its way between them. He strokes at his hair and places gentle kisses there wishing it could be this simple. If only he could be like this all the time and  _ actually _ live again. But they both know they are beyond that point. This moment of sanity will be short-lived and there is no life left for a man who has lived passed the years of his body.

Eventually, Prompto shivers, and Ardyn does pull out and reach for their discarded underwear. “We should not stay here. You will catch a cold.”

He shakes his head and takes his boxes. “This is fine.”

“Okay,” he mutters.

They redress themselves in just their underwear and lay back down with Ardyn’s shirt bundled up for a cushion and his coat spread over them as a makeshift blanket. Prompto is the one on top this time, and he rests his cheek onto his chest, trying not to focus on the heartbeat he cannot hear. “I will never abandon you, Ardyn Lucis Caleum.”

Ardyn shakes in response. “I have not heard that name is countless years.”

“You will always be the king of my heart.”

His arms tighten almost painfully. “I love you, too.”

Metal scrapping against metal wakes Prompto. He gives a groggy groan and lifts himself up from where he is spread over Ardyn.

“Noct,” he sputters.

Noctis stands there stock-still and wide-eyed, engine blade poised for attack. Betrayal is clear through the shock on his face. He turns and storms back out through the door before Prompto is fully up on his feet. Ardyn is just beginning to stir and tries to reach for him, but Prompto blurts a quick apology and races after the prince. “Noctis! Wait!”

He follows him down a series of hallways until they finally reach a dead-end. Naturally, Noctis could still get away by warping, but he turns to face him with stony eyes. “What the fuck was that?”

“I never meant for you to find out this way.”

“Oh.” He looks completely appalled. “So that really was what this was all about then. The way he kept looking at you and the strange way you were behaving. I can’t believe you...Over me?”

“No!” Prompto takes a deep breath, trying to figure out how best he can explain. “I never chose him  _over_  you, Noct. How about we find somewhere to sit down and I’ll explain it all, okay?” He is thankful he had the sensibility to put his boxers back on, for he doubts Noctis would listen to anything he says if he was entirely nude.

“No,” he gives a rough shake of his head, “I want to know now. You seriously let  _him_  touch you?”

“This is going to sound crazy, okay, but I swear I’m telling the truth. You have to promise me you’ll listen to everything I say, okay?”

“I don’t think I owe you any promises.” He sighs. “But, fine.”

“Ardyn isn’t the person you think he is. Technically, he is your enemy, but he isn’t evil, not really. He used to be a wonderful person. He used to help so many people. You know how the Scourge turns people into daemons? Well, that’s pretty much what happened to him as a byproduct of curing the victims. Except, he became a twisted immortal instead of the true definition of a daemon. There is still good inside him, it’s just hard for him to win against the darkness of his curse.”

“He’s just lying to you, Prom.”

“No.”

“How can you trust him so easily?”

“Because I  _know_  him. I was with him, Noct, before. In my past life.” His voice trails off quietly.

“You past life? You don’t have to make excuses.”

“I’m not.”

“Then why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Because I only just remembered. I was having dreams, but that’s all I thought they were. I should have said something, but I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“And this didn’t?”

“I didn’t want to.”

“You didn’t have to fuck him!”

It is easier to look at the ground than the pain in Noctis’ eyes. “I didn’t even think you’d want to see me again.”

“Shit!” Noctis paces across the end of the hall, one hand running through his banes. “How did this all get so fucked up?”

He is right. It is all fucked up, and Prompto has no idea how to go about fixing any of it. “Hey.” He reaches out a hand for his shoulder, but Noctis moves away before he can make contact.

“That was Ardyn’s fault too, you know? I’d never have hurt you like that.”

The words are a double-edged sword. “I know,” he mutters.

“Of course, I’d come save you, Prom! You’re my best friend. Didn’t we promise to stay by each other’s side no matter what?”

Prompto does meet his eyes now, and there is so much loss there, all he wants to do is hold him and make it better somehow. “I...”

“You never said it back.”

“What?”

“At Caem. You never said you loved me.”

Prompto can feel stinging at his eyes again. “I do, you know that!”

Noctis gives a dry laugh. “Do I? Aren’t I nothing now that he’s in the picture?”

“Noct, stop, that’s not--” He takes a deep breath. “Can’t I love you both? It’s not like I chose this shitty situation, okay?” The tears are swimming in his eyes at this point, his voice breaking on every word. “This all would have been better if I’d never even come down here again. Except it wouldn’t.” His memories of the beyond were hazy at first, but now he can remember the Astrals’ words. He knows the fate awaiting them all, and he can’t let that happen. Not to Ardyn, and sure as hell not to Noctis. “I have to make this better somehow. I  _will_ make this better somehow.”

Noctis squares his face into seriousness. “You have to choose, Prom. Him or me. You can’t have it both ways.”

“Please, Noct. That isn’t what’s important right now.”

Noctis sighs. “So you want me to ignore this to save you ex’s soul, or whatever?”

“Yes, but you don’t get it, Noct. There’s so much more to this. I’ve been with them, Noct--the Astrals. I know what Bahamut expects to happen. To you.” He doesn’t even care how desperate he sounds.

He must get through to him, because when he reaches for him this time, Noctis doesn’t move away. “Then explain it to me, because it feels like the world is falling apart.”

“It is!” He sees Ignis prone on the wet cobblestone at Ardyn’s feet in his mind's eye, then images of the foreseen future one after another, and he can’t hold the tears back anymore. “I didn’t have to come back to save Ardyn, because it was always planned you would. But the price is too much. You aren’t supposed to leave here, Noct. The world goes to hell and then you return just to die yourself.”

“That’s impossible.”

“You have to believe me, Noct! Why would I lie about this?”

“To get me to cooperate.”

“Bahamut is heartless. He’s the one that did this to Ardyn. You are just as much a pawn to him as he was. I couldn’t do anything for him back then, but I can do something now. But only if you listen to me. Iggy, he--he spoke with them too, right? Oh my gods, he probably knows too! Wait,” Prompto pauses, looking around frantically, “where are the guys?”

“Shit. I ran on ahead, so they have probably found Ardyn by now.”

Logically, Prompto knows nothing they do can really hurt Ardyn, but still, instinct drives him racing back to the room he left him in. Sure enough, Gladio and Ignis are both there. Electricity sparks in hisses as it jumps over the metal floor, obviously from one of Ignis’ elemancy flasks evidenced by the glass near his feet. Ardyn, clad only in his boxers, is laughing maniacally, dark shadows fuming from his skin. Greatsword in hand, Gladio is attempting to cut a path through the electricity to reach him.

“Stop!”

Gladio stumbles forward at Prompto’s shout, catching his balance with the end of the greatsword.

“Prompto?” Ignis asks, face seeking him out.

“Yeah, it’s me, Iggy,” Prompto says with an inside voice now that he has their attention. Even Ardyn’s now immensely dark and cruel eyes are pinned on him once again. The look is terrifying, even to him, and Prompto is glad the electricity is keeping him in one place. “Noct’s here, too. Ardyn hasn’t hurt either of us.” That is a lie of course, but they don’t need to know what Ardyn did to him.

“Thank heavens,” Ignis says. “Normally, I would say it is best for us to retreat, but considering we were able to catch him so unawares, we may have a fighting chance this time.”

Prompto shakes his head before remembering Ignis can’t see it. “No. It’s a long story, and I’ll explain I swear, but you have to stop hurting him.”

“Stop hurting him?” Gladio asks, incredulous. “After everyone he’s hurt? I think not.”

“Like, I said, I can explain. Please. Ignis?”

Ignis straightens his stance, hands gripping his daggers tighter. “I will listen to you, Prompto, but I stand with Gladio. We shall postpone attacking, but if that electricity dies down before you have convinced me, I will be throwing a second flask without delay. I will not deal with any more avoidable casualties.”

“Deal.”

Noctis chooses that moment to make his entrance and sucks in a breath. “You really believe  _that_  is worth saving?” He gestures to the snarl curling up Ardyn’s lip.

“He’s defensive. Once the electricity is gone he’ll be better. If I go to him, he’ll be himself again.”

“I hope you’re right because that is not the face of a man, Prom.”

“Just trust me.”

“Mind sharing with the class?” Gladio asks.

Noctis crosses his arms, feigning disinterest. “Yeah, Prompto, wanna tell them your little story?”

“Let’s make sure I am understanding you correctly. You are saying that you lived with Ardyn hundreds of years ago when the Scourge first began and that Ardyn tainted his fate as the chosen one by saving the lives of his citizens.”

“Yes. Bahamut is sadistic or petty or I don’t know what. But he’s picked Noct as his new chosen one now, which would be great, but Noct’s reward is to die to end the Scourge.”

Ignis takes a labored breath. “So it is true.”

“You did learn about it from them, then, when you called the Astrals?”

“I was given a vision, of Noctis’ fate.”

Gladio steps closer to Noctis as if doing so can protect him from this planned fate. “Then we have to do something about it.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Prompto exclaims.

“And how the hell do you plan to change it?” Noctis asks, eying Ardyn.

“It’s about Ardyn. After he got cursed, the Scourge got connected with him somehow. Noctis is supposed to die to bring the sun back, so all we have to do is stop the sun from disappearing.”

“Which we do how exactly?” Gladio asked.

“If killing Ardyn ends the Scourge, all we have to do is kill him before that happens,” Noctis says dispassionately.

Ignis turns his face from Prompto to Noctis and back again. “Noct--”

“It’s okay, Iggy. It makes sense. Even Ardyn himself said death is the only option. He’s lived too long to go on any longer.”

There is at least a small degree of pity in Noctis’ eyes now. “So then the question is how do we kill an immortal?”

“According to the prophecy,” Ignis says, “Bahamut will instill in you the power of your ancestors and his own blessing. It is with this power that you will be able to expel the evil residing within his heart after wearing him down in battle.”

“But that is only because he is resistant, right? Because the evil inside him doesn’t want to be expelled? So, what if I can keep him cooperative? Then maybe we don’t need as much power.”

“That is a fair question. There is no harm trying.”

“Iggy,” Gladio says defensively, “who’s to say what that bastard will do once he’s out?”

Prompto sets pleading eyes on the shield. “At least give me a chance to show you.”

Gladio sighs. “Fine. But prince charmless is sticking behind me just in case.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Noctis turns his eyes to the ground, perhaps because he doesn’t want to have to see Prompo rejoin Ardyn. Prompto can’t blame him for it.

It doesn’t take long for this third flask of electricity to finish running its course. Ardyn mostly reverted to normal when they began talking instead of fighting, but his eyes are still that dark shade of cruel and that creepy smirk is plastered over his face.

“Come back for more?”

“I will always come back to you,” Prompto says, ignoring the intended jibe. He takes his hand in his and leans in close so that he is forced to meet his sincere gaze. “It’s okay, Ardyn. They are going to help. We’ll finish this.”

A shudder wracks through him, then he blinks, and the clear amber refinds his eyes. He nods, squeezing his hand back.

They move somewhere more comfortable to talk. While the majority of the building is made entirely of metal, Ardyn leads them to what looks much like a cafeteria and scrounges up chairs with actual cushions for them all. They sit in a semi-circle, discussing the specifics of the situation and bouncing ideas off each other.

“I don’t think there is any other way,” Prompto insists for what feels like the hundredth time.

“No,” Noctis says quickly.

“He is right,” Ardyn says, squeezing at his hand, “I will not lose you again.”

“You won’t. Don’t you get it? We’ll move on together this way, as we always should have.”

“No.” He shakes his head, meeting eyes with the prince. “I am at my end, but you have a chance for a new beginning here. You have people who care about you.”

Prompto gives Noctis an apologetic look. “As long as I can protect them, that’s all that matters to me.”

“Like  _I_  keep saying, I’ll be fine. The sun is still here, so there is no reason for me to die.”

“Noct, be reasonable,” Ignis says, “there is no telling how or when Bahamut will call on you for a blood sacrifice. I have learned firsthand that the Astrals are not ones to be underestimated.”

Noctis’ mouth thins into a line. “Sorry.”

“None of this is your fault, Noct, just as Prompto here claims none of it is Ardyn’s either. I fear this has turned into a game of the gods, and what we need to figure out is how the gods strategize so that we may counter-attack.”

“Bahamut just wants to prove himself right to Ifrit,” Ardyn says.

“Shiva!” Prompto exclaims. “Shiva’s on our side, right? And her and Ifrit have history, so maybe if she confronts him for us, she can convince him to give up.”

“That will not do any good,” Ardyn says. “Bahamut will not stop even if Ifrit does. He is too vain to accept a forfeit as a win.”

Prompto bites his lip. “Then what can we do besides hope for the best?”

“It seems we have but three options: Noctis claims his role as king and we hope that Bahamut is satisfied, Prompto steps in as the blood sacrifice, or we attempt an affront on the lord of the Astrals. None of the options are ideal.”

Sitting up straight like a true king, Noctis says, “It is my burden. Worst scenario, Bahamut strikes me down as prophesied. Best case, I’ll be spared. Even if he kills me, it is still a better alternative than the future he planned for us. No real loss.”

“Noct,” Prompto lets go of Ardyn’s hand to take Noctis’ instead, “I can’t let you risk that. I’ve already had more time than I should have. Let me save you.”

“So that I can live on without you like he had to?”

That stings. It isn’t that he wants to leave him. “There’s no good option here, Noct.”

“I know that.” He sighs. “Like I said, it’s all fucked up.”

Ignis shifts in his seat. “As much as I wish we had a better option, Prompto does have a point. No offense, but he is a mere civilian while you are our king. We will need you once this is over far more than him, and as much as I consider Prompto a dear friend, it is my duty to protect you at all costs.”

“It goes without saying my vote is the same,” Gladio says.

Prompto sighs in relief. “Thanks, guys.”

Noctis scowls. “Ultimately, it’s my decision, as your king.”

“True,” Ignis relents. “As the new king, your orders outweigh any that came before. Yet, some orders are worth breaking.”

Noctis sags back into his seat, looking once again like the discontent young adult they all knew him to be. “If you won’t listen to me, then I guess it’s decided.”

Ardyn finally speaks up. “Are you absolutely sure, love?”

Prompto turns back to face him. “Yes. Saving your soul is worth more than a thousand deaths to me. Besides, I will be saving Noct and the rest of the world in the process. I’ll be a hero!”

His lips turn up at his lame joke, but instead of laughing with him, Ardyn tugs him in for a kiss. “You have always been too good for me.”

Prompto runs a finger down his cheek and over his bottom lip. “Don’t say that. You were the one that inspired me. You showed me that people were worth saving no matter the cost. You were the person I wanted to become.”

Ardyn closes his eyes and presses a kiss to the inside of his wrist. “If you had not found me after the curse, I would have committed countless other atrocities. I was weak, and you suffered the brunt of that weakness. I need you to know, in case I never have another chance, that you have always been the light at the end of my darkness.”

“I know,” Prompto whispers, placing a kiss to the crown of his head. “I know. It will be okay, now. I will not let the darkness take you away anymore.”

Returning to Insomnia is much smoother than they ever anticipated. Having the Chancellor on their side has its benefits. No barricade barres their way and no MT ships come swooping down. The only thing awaiting them is an infestation of wildlife which is easy enough to disengage.

Prompto has only been to the Citadel a handful of times during this lifetime and once in his former. None of them compare to the feeling that hits him when they reach the doorway to the throne room. Much like the sensations that came from his memory dreams, it is a conglomerate of emotions: fear, despair, cruelty, hate, anger, and strongest of all, grief. It is with heavy feet and sheer will that he steps into the vast room.

“They are here,” Ardyn proclaims as he follows.

Prompto nods. He knows the Astrals, knows what they feel like. They are there, at least some of them, beyond the veil of what can be seen, waiting, watching. Maybe, if they are lucky, Shiva and Etro are included. “Okay, so, Noctis is supposed to die literally claiming the throne, but I can’t exactly just sit down on the throne, so...”

“Staying within the circle should suffice.” Ignis is already kneeling down on one knee to run chalk lines over the floor. For someone blind, he is eerily neat in drawing the circle.

“Do I even want to ask?” Prompto asks when he is done.

“It was the last thing I saw before losing my sight. Perhaps it was a blessing from your Etro?”

“Maybe.” Through the intensity of the room, Prompto can feel a small hope wiggle into his chest. Maybe they aren’t alone in this. Etro does have some say in this, doesn’t she?

He tugs Ardyn with him into the circle and sit them down across from each other, cross-legged. “Focus on me, okay. Don’t think about anything except for being with me here right now.”

They lock eyes, just staring and grasping hands. It is the grounding Ardyn needs as Noctis holds up the Ring of the Lucii and chants some olden time incantation. When he slips the ring on, there is a rush of wind as the veil parts.

Ardyn’s head makes to jerk to look, but Prompto clamps hard on his hand to warn him against it. “There’s only me and you. Everything is okay.”

Noctis’ words fade, replaced with an overbearing rumble. “This is not the time for this, mortal.”

“We don’t care about your timeline. This ends tonight, one way or another.”

The wind rustles with Bahamut’s displeasure. “No matter. Ardyn Lucis Caleum’s soul will be mine just as yours.”

“That is where you are wrong,” Prompto cuts in, gaze unbroken from Ardyns’s. “Noctis will be living a long and happy life like he deserves.”

The audience chairs rustle against the floor. “A blood price must be paid. That is how Ardyn got himself into this mess in the first place. He was naive enough to believe he could save countless lives without any consequence. Ignis Scientia has learned as well what happens when you ask for the impossible.”

“That may be true,” Ignis says, “but a price paid is a reward given.”

“You will get your sacrifice, Bahamut,” Prompto says, “but it will not be Noctis.”

“Noctis Lucis Caelum is the chosen king of light. He is the one prophesied to save Lucis, not anyone else.”

“So what? If Ardyn dies the Scourge will end regardless.”

“Alas, Ardyn is immortal. Only great power can stab through my curse. My own power.”

“Then give it to me.”

The chairs rattle again. “Do not overstep your bounds just because Etro has smiled upon you.”

Prompto wants so badly to glare daggers at this pompous ass, but he forces his face to remain calm for Ardyn’s sake. “What good is killing the last of the line of Lucis? Wouldn’t it be far more beneficial to kill off someone like me who shouldn’t even be here and let him continue the line? That way you can continue to manipulate Lucis as you please?”

“You have spunk, I grant you that. I will lessen the strength of the curse and see what you are capable of. I could not grant you my power even if I wanted to. Any unworthy will be driven mad if not combust at contact.”

“That’s more than enough. You said great power is needed, right? Then I’m set. We have a power you will never have, Bahamut, true love. I knew I was meant to be with him the first time I laid eyes on him. He gave my life renewed purpose and made me happier than I ever could have dreamed of.”

“You speak lies. Your life was pitiable. Living in the dirt on rations surrounded by constant illness. You watched him suffer and wither, grieved for him, and ultimately suffered great pain by his hand.”

“That is why you will never understand. That pain was nothing compared to our bond and the love buried beneath it all. I had pain and sadness, but his love was more than enough to make it my dream-come-true.”

“Prompto,” Ardyn swallows, eyes shining, “you cannot fathom how lonely I was before you. I had never reached out for anyone for fear of losing them, but when I let you join me, it was already too late. I had fallen with no way up. All I ever wanted was to make you happy.”

“And you did.” Prompto kisses him deeply and his chest warms at the contact. The air begins to swirl around the circle.

“Is it working?” Noctis calls.

“I believe it is,” Ignis calls back, “but only time will tell.”

Prompto keeps kissing Ardyn, and the heat spreads down his arms, burning where their hands meet. The air speeds up to a deafening sound much like a tornado.

Ardyn pulls back with a gasp. “I can feel...”

“Heat?”

“It’s like...the fires of baptism?” It comes out as a question.

“I love you, Ardyn. I love you.” He keeps repeating it again and again, even as Ardyn begins to spasm and shriek from agony, even when he can hardly see him through his tears.

“Maybe if I--” Noctis’ voice breaks through the noise followed by a cry of pain.

Focus, Prompto tells himself. This has to work. “I love you, Ardyn. I love you.”

Finally, Ardyn’s hands jerk from his hold and his body lifts on the wind, body feeble and sagging like a doll held up by strings. “I love you, too, Prompto,” he says weakly, only audible because the wind is suddenly otherworldly silent.

“Well, I’ll be,” comes the rumbling boom of Bahamut. As soon as he says this, Ardyn’s body grows transparent. “The curse is thus lifted, and this man’s soul shall be recycled back into the beyond.”

Prompto’s shoulders heave on his exhale. He is so relieved a happy sob bubbles from his mouth.

“However,” Bahamut’s voice adds gravely, “the price is yet to be paid.”

Prompto whips his head back and forth. “No matter. I am ready to go.”

“I never said your blood would be sufficient.”

“No!” Prompto cries. Jumping up, he tries in vain to break out for the circle of wind, but the momentum is too strong and he is pushed backward. “Not, Noctis! I’ll do anything!”

“Even give up your promised happily ever afterlife?” It is hard to distinguish emotions from his voice, but Prompto guesses this is scorn.

“Oh, do stop,” comes a soft, comforting voice like a security blanket. “You may be the ‘Lord of Astrals,’ but life and death are still my domain.”

“Etro!” Prompto cries in relief.

“Hello, little light. You’re even stronger than I believed you to be. Not only were you able to make it through the darkness of Ardyn’s curse using your love alone, but you managed to actually remember your past life, something that has only happened to one out of a hundred reincarnated. I will not stand by and let you cut off this little light, Bahamut.”

“You dare to oppose me?”

“Yes, I do dare. We all tire of this childish rivalry between you and Ifrit. This is not some silly game, Bahamut. Life and death are not meant for your amusement.”

There is a tinkling followed by a chill in the air. “I must say that I agree. I have walked beside Noctis as I did Lunafreya, and I do not wish to see him or this brave child suffer at your hand any longer.”

“Shiva,” Bahamut says with challenge.

“You say you need a blood price, but how much blood will it take to appease you? King Regis, Shield Amicitia, Glavie Ulric, Lady Lunafreya, all of Insomnia, Ardyn, your original chosen one. Has not enough blood been shed, or need you sacrifice the innocent to the daemons’ reign?”

There comes a deep rumble. “Infuriating women! Do as you will. But, know this King Noctis of Lucis, your descendants are indebted to me. Carry on the line and prosper.” With that, the wind swirls around the circle evaporating like smoke. The air grows quiet and calm.

Ardyn is still there floating, barely visible. “I am glad,” he says in that same weak voice. “Live the life I could never give you.”

Prompto wipes at his wet eyes. He has lost count of many times he’s cried recently, but who can blame him? “I will.” He stretches his arm toward him, just managing to reach his ankle. As expected, he is nothing but a trick of the light, and Prompto’s hand goes right through him. “Do not mourn for me, my love. This is for the best. I can be at peace at last.”

“I know.” He nods his head even as tears stream down his cheeks. “I will find you, I swear it.”

“And I will be waiting for you when you come. I will watch over you as you did for me to pass the time.”

A soft smile touches Prompto’s lips. “Nothing would make me happier. Tell Etro thank you for me.”

It is even harder to see him now. “Naturally. Farewell.”

“Farewell,” Prompto chokes out. Only a second later, Ardyn blinks out of sight and Prompto lets out a loud sob.

A hand comes to rest on his shoulder. “Hey.”

It’s Noctis. Prompto spins toward him and pushes his face into his chest as he lets it all out. It is more cathartic than anything. He is sad, but more than that, he is relieved. He has saved them both from their fates without even having to die in the process. It has to be too good to be true.

Noctis is silent, letting him cry into his chest until there are no more tears left. Prompto lifts his face with a gentle chuckle. “Sorry for the thematics. I’m just so glad.”

“Glad?”

“We’re all okay.” He sweeps his hand toward Ignis and Gladio who are chatting together quietly a fair distance away.

“I guess you’re right. But Ardyn...”

“It had to be done. This was the best outcome we could have hoped for. We can have a happy ending, Noct.” It sounds cheesy even to him, but right now he doesn’t give a damn.

Noctis’ lips twitch up into a smile. “Yeah.”

Prompto knows he still has more to make up for, but it seems things will be okay between them.

“First, we need to rebuild Insomnia,” Ignis says.

“It’s rude to eavesdrop, Specs.”

“My apologies. My hearing is much better than it used to be.”

“No sweat. You’re right. I guess we need to start planning again.”

Prompto fiddles with the end of his vest. “Before that, can we get a hotel? I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep or meal in who knows how long.”

“Oh my gods, Prom! Of course, you were out in the snowstorm. Do you need anything?”

Prompto chuckles. “I’m fine, seriously. Just could use a good rest, ya know?”

“I believe, we have all earned more than a single night’s rest. Planning can wait a day or two.”

“Thanks, Specs.”

Prompto snaps one more picture of the glimmering water of Galdin Quay before there is too little light left to do so.

Oddly, it is the lack of movement and clicking noise that stirs the dozing king. His nose brushes against the blonde’s neck. “What’d I miss?”

“Just the sun setting. I’ll show you the pics later.”

Noctis yawns. “You could show me now.”

“Naw, no rush. I know you’re tired from all those meetings today.”

“Don’t remind me,” Noctis grumbles.

“What do you expect? We just got the city back up and running. It’s gonna take a lot of time and effort to get things going on as smoothly as they used to. Just think how bad it would be without Iggy.”

“Ugh. I would die.”

Prompto chuckles. “Don’t be so melodramatic.”

“Easy for you to say. All you do all day is take pictures.”

“Ouch. I do way more than that.”

“Like what?”

“For your information, I’ve been helping Cindy out at the garage when I can, and when I can’t get away long enough for that, I’ve been helping out at the library and schools.”

“I always thought you were more an animal guy than a kid guy.”

“Well,” he drew the word out for extra effect, “Bahamut was pretty clear that you have descendants, so I figured I better prepare myself for motherhood.”

Noctis snorts. Right into his neck, which is pretty gross.

“What? You gonna be Mommy?”

“No way.”

“Then stop that laughing right now.”

“Anything you say, mommy.”

Prompto knocks against him with his shoulder. “I know it’s way too soon to be thinking about names, but I can’t help myself.”

“Ardyn.”

“Noct--”

Noctis finally lifts his head and looks out at the water. “Stop. I was going to suggest Regis, but I know this means more to you, so...”

“It’s a really nice gesture, Noct, but...I think it would be too weird having a kid that reminds me of someone I’ve boned.”

Noctis gives him a playful punch to the shoulder. “Did you seriously just say bone?”

“That I did.”

“Oh, my gods! Okay, Regis then. And if it’s a girl...”

“Chocolina.”

“Dude, be serious.”

“I am!”

“Luna.”

“Luna Lumen Argentum.”

“Hmm.” Noctis hums in agreement before processing it. “Argentum? There’s no way we are renouncing the Lucis name. Specs would literally kill us.”

“I know, I know. I just liked the sound of it.”

“We have plenty of time to think on it.”

The last rays of sunlight reflect off the water. For once, Prompto feels entirely carefree. “Yeah.” He rests his head on Noctis’ shoulder and palms over his hand. “We’ll figure it out as we go.”


End file.
